


Son of A Preacher Man

by proser132



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: AU, Abuse, Angst, Confusion, F/M, M/M, Romance, Slash, implied douchebaggery, past-selves, triumph
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-15
Updated: 2012-09-15
Packaged: 2017-11-14 07:27:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/512798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/proser132/pseuds/proser132
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was fire - always fire. It burned at a touch - burned him away - but then again, so did Roy. Sometimes, the Universe knows exactly what It's doing. AU, RoyEd, abusive!Hohenheim, living!Trisha. Winner of May 2011 Goldworth Oneshot Award. No offence intended. X-post from FFN.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Son of A Preacher Man

* * *

**Son of A Preacher Man**

* * *

Edward Elric crossed his arms and glared, knowing that if he could, the object of his glare would be aflame. 'You have to be kidding me,' he dead-panned.

Al, beside him, bit his lip; Trisha Elric shot him a worried look that he ignored. If she wasn't going to talk to him, he wasn't going to give her the benefit of the doubt. Hohenheim (he refused to call that bastard 'Dad') just glared back. Since he had waltzed back into their lives when Ed was thirteen, it had all gone to shit.

The preacher, sitting on the love-seat, adjusted nervously, and his son beside him, young and dark haired, smiled at them all as if he was a master puppeteer and they were the finest marionettes in the world.

Edward rolled his eyes and leaned against the couch, tilting his head back and studying the ceiling. He decided in that moment, with the preacher-turned-counsellor sitting in his living room with his son, that coming out to his ultra-conservative, _Catholic_ family had been one of the more awful ideas he'd had.

But, as always, he had rushed in where angels feared to tread (literally, he snorted in his head), and now the price he was paying for it was –

Homosexual counselling.

He couldn't see the humour of this, he really couldn't.

Up until that moment, everyone had been silent; but now, the counsellor was speaking with Hohenheim, and he wanted to hear this travesty. He tuned in, carefully keeping his expression the same; his eyes flicked to the preacher's son, who was studying him quietly. He snorted in his mind again. Probably trying to decide how 'corrupted' he was.

'I know you come very highly recommended,' Hohenheim began. 'I can only hope that you can do something about this... _problem_. We need to heal him before our younger son, Alphonse, is also turned.'

Edward almost choked. "Turned"? Like the queers of the world went door to door, recruiting! Al winced and looked away; and if Trisha thought that Ed didn't see the flinch when Hohenheim said "our son", she was fooling herself. He sighed internally, reminding himself he only legally had to deal with this another seven months.

As always, the weight of being seventeen – so close, and yet so far from freedom – swung over him like a boulder, threatening to crush him under the knowledge. He could support himself if he left: he'd held a steady job as a professor's assistant for the past year and a half at the nearest college, and he made good pay. For one person. Which wasn't enough, because he knew that if he left, Al would follow him, and he wasn't certain of their future then, even if Al worked (something he wouldn't allow.)

He snuck a peek at Al, glancing over under hooded lids, and had to suppress a shudder as he realised that his brother was carefully ignoring his gaze. It hurt, unbelievably so; but he could see where Al was coming from. With Hohenheim constantly ranting about the "homosexual menace" and other ignorant propaganda, and Trisha not speaking to him (out of disgust with him or fear of Hohenheim, it was impossible to tell), Ed understood that Al was obviously feeling very mixed.

He pushed aside his hurt and thought morosely that he may not have to worry about Al anyway.

'I must tell you,' the preacher's son was saying, eyes still covertly trained on Ed, 'There is, on average, only a thirty percent success rate when using a spiritual counsellor.'

'If there's a chance,' Hohenheim said fiercely, and the disgusted fear on his face was evident, 'I'll take it. I won't lose my son to those flaming faggots.'

Ed flinched, his stomach clenching, and he opened his mouth to protest; the preacher's son looked at him fully for the first time since he had sat down. The man shook his head, an infinitesimal movement that Ed would have missed if he hadn't been watching. Ed sat up in surprise, and as everyone turned to look at him, the man shot him a warning look.

He turned to the preacher, keeping the son in his peripheral vision. 'So, Edward?' the preacher asked. 'Do you want to get better...?'

He almost snarled a venomous, scathing reply, but again, the son shook his head. Dropping his own head forward so that only the son could get a clear look at his face, he cocked his eyebrow in silent question, expressing all the words he could not say. The son, aware that no one was paying attention to anyone but Ed, mouthed two words.

' _Play along_.'

'Well, Edward?' Hohenheim asked, his voice bordering on dangerous. Ed's head shot up, and he glared at his father, before saying the one word that didn't want to leave his mouth.

'Yes.'

Hohenheim actually sat back, looking thunderstruck, Trisha confused; Al was blank with shock, and the preacher looked pleased.

The son gave a small, satisfied smile. Ed wanted to glare at him too; what did he think this was? A game of chess?

'Excellent!' The preacher clapped his hands, startling them all. 'My son, Roy, will be your counsellor. Unless there are any objections?'

If Ed thought that Hohenheim would keep his homophobic questions to himself, he was dreadfully wrong.

'How old is your son?' He asked, shooting "Roy" a look that spoke clearly his thought that if he was within ten years of age with Ed he wasn't leaving them alone together. The preacher, who was busy looking for some papers in his briefcase, didn't seem to hear his question; Roy, however, deigned to answer.

'I am thirty one,' Roy soothed, and Hohenheim relaxed marginally. The preacher found the papers he was looking for and handed them to Roy, having appeared to miss the entire conversation. Something nagged at the back of Ed's mind – the brief, strange thought that Roy was lying.

The man stood and dusted imaginary dirt from his knees, smiling disarmingly at Hohenheim. 'We'll have your son normal as soon as possible, sir,' he said, and finally Hohenheim relaxed. It made Ed sick. 'Come along, Edward. We have some tests for you to take to determine the depth of your issues.'

Something flitted through Roy's eyes, too brief to be caught by the casual observer; but again, Ed was looking too close to miss it, even in what he was realising was Roy's tightly controlled features. It was disgust – pure and utter loathing – and it made something in Ed curl up and die.

He fought not to retch as Hohenheim sent him an approving smile; he didn't want, or _nee_ _d_ , Hohenheim's approval. The asshole could go shove his cross and his bible where the sun don't shine.

They stood up to leave together, Ed playing the surly teenager and Roy beside him, chattering about nothing in particular and receiving no response.

This whole thing was _wrong_ , Ed couldn't help but think. He had played along, as Roy had asked, and now he had bought himself at least seven months of hell.

'Where's your backyard?' Roy asked pleasantly, but it seemed forced. Ed's scowl deepened; no doubt Roy thought he would try to rape him, or something. His whole being shuddered with the thought of doing something like that to another human being, and he instinctively put more distance between them than before. He pointed the way, refusing to speak, and soon enough they were on the back deck.

Where Roy proceeded to slump against the wall, drawing in a shaky breath and releasing it in a rattling, agonisingly hollow sigh.

'Um...' Ed blinked. What the hell?

'I'm sorry,' Roy said quietly, and the stark sincerity told Ed it wasn't for leaning against the wall. 'You shouldn't have to deal with this bullshit.'

If Roy had stripped and declared himself a leprechaun, Ed wouldn't have been more surprised. 'What?' he asked, a little lamely in his opinion. Roy laughed, and that sound, too, was hollow as a drum, thumping against Ed's ribs in time with his pounding, confused and hurt heart.

Ed winced. That made him sound like a thirteen year-old girl. Something he was most definitely _not_.

'I'm sorry that you have to go through this,' Roy repeated, his voice patient and yet full of anger. 'It's not fair that you have to be 'fixed' like there's something wrong with you, when you're just like everyone else.'

Ed stood there dumbly for several moments. He briefly considered that this was some bizarre dream and that he should pinch himself awake, or take control, or _something_ , but the sound of the crickets in the June evening air and the all-too-real pain of his heart bruising itself as it ran double time told him that this was true with the stunning clarity that dreams never quite attained.

So the disgust he had seen – the forced quality in Roy's voice – was Roy as disgusted about this whole business as Ed?

'I want to thank you for not snapping when you clearly wanted to,' Roy continued after a bit of time had passed, the silence carving its litanies of unspoken, half-formed thoughts into Ed's skin. 'If you hadn't played along, it's likely that we would have had to leave and you would have been saddled with a spiritual counsellor who meant to honestly attempt to cure you of your "disease".'

'What's going on?' Ed bit out, a little more sharply than he meant to, but he couldn't take it back and he was already glaring at Roy as if he had done him grievous harm. 'Why are you helping me? Aren't I some sort of walking sin to people like you?' he laughed, the sound sickening and cruel. 'Damned for doing what your god told me to – for _loving_?'

'No,' Roy snapped, eyes blazing in their sudden fury, so passionate and heated that it stopped Ed in his tracks, as if the expression behind the irises was another entirely. 'Not to me. There's never been anything wrong with homosexuals – _never_. Don't let them tell you that; don't ever let them tell you that.'

An emotion unfurled in Ed that he had never expected to feel for a man of the cloth – admiration. Still, his inherent resentment was there, seething and uncontrollable and wild, and he demanded, 'So why do you make a living by trying to "fix" people like me? Answer that, you prick!'

'Because I'm _not_!' Roy snarled, then froze, closing his eyes as he composed himself. Ed watched, secretly intrigued, as Roy opened his eyes and revealed a complete, almost totalitarian calm. He took a deep breath.

'My father may believe in this, but I don't. I am only a spiritual counsellor, not a miracle worker. And it would take a miracle to truly straighten you out.' The smile flirted with Ed's lips before he quashed it down – but he suspected Roy had seen it anyway. 'I can only offer spiritual guidance. And a little more, if you're willing to take it."

Ed frowned. 'What does that mean?'

'I help kids like you "get out", so to speak.'

Ed wasn't sure how many shocks his poor heart could take in one day. It was frightening, _really_ , _**really**_ frightening.

'Get out... where?'

'Leave,' Roy clarified. 'Once you pass the age of eligibility for emancipation, I help you find a place to live, a job, how to get into college if that's what you want. We help you get away.'

'I –' Ed was being hit with too much information in too little time, and his breath caught as his brain whirled. 'But – why?'

'Over time,' Roy said gently, 'A disturbing trend has been noticed. Homosexual, homeless teens are twice or sometimes even three times as likely to be raped, injured, or killed on the streets. And homosexual teens in religious homes are something like four times as likely to run away or be kicked out by their families.' He smiled now, and that did _not_ help Ed make more sense of what he was being told. 'So people like me try to get to people like you at the source, and help you when we still can.'

'We...?' Ed repeated. Then it clicked, and he scowled. 'What, are you telling me you're part of some sort of flaming, underground resistance to organised religion? That's a little far-fetched.'

Roy winced. 'Because that's not what I said,' he groaned, and pinched the bridge of his nose. 'Can you try to be a little less obstinate and just _listen_?'

Ed's temper flared, burning like acid through what little self control he had, and he would have said something if Roy's hand hadn't clapped over his mouth. The palm was cool and dry, and Ed flushed madly in a way that he was certain made him appear as if he was a thirteen-year-old school-boy. _Fuck_! He thought, glaring. _What the hell is_ with _this guy?_

'We aren't organised,' Roy continued after a moment. 'We're just... trying to help.'

Ed paused, temper falling, as he looked at Roy. The man refused to look at him, instead looking to the right and the ground, his eyes clouded with some sort of emotion Ed didn't recognise. He abruptly looked back, and again, that drive, that _passion_ , gave Ed pause.

'Will you let me help you?' Roy asked, his voice both pleading and final. His hand fell away, leaving Ed's mouth on fire, as if the skin of his palms had been covered in fire ants and now they swarmed over his lips, biting with fury, leaving his skin bright red.

Ed didn't know his answer before it came out of his mouth.

'Yes.'

The smile that Roy gave him was bright, full of relief. Ed's heart stuttered to a halt before tripping forward on the fastest race of its life. _Shit,_ Ed thought, panicked. _What's wrong with me? There is no way – not this guy – have to change the subject –_

'Why did you lie to my father?' he asked abruptly. Dammit, he really needed to start thinking about what came out of his mouth before he said it.

'Hmm?' Roy blinked. 'Oh, you mean about my age.' He smiled again, and the corners of his eyes crinkled merrily. 'You caught that?'

Ed flushed again, darker than before, at the admiration in Roy's voice. 'It was easy,' Ed defended, and Roy's smile grew more secretive. 'So?' He demanded, eyebrow raised.

Roy laughed. 'I'm twenty four,' he said, and something in Ed's mind shifted Roy from the category of _Out of My League_ to _Maybe In Reach_. 'Your father had a look on his face that said quite plainly if we were within ten years of age with each other he wouldn't leave us alone in a room.'

Ed felt his eyebrows raise in surprise. Wasn't that how he himself described the look, as his father was making it?

Roy sighed, and Ed's eyes narrowed. 'I'm sorry,' he said, and scooped up the papers from the deck; sometime during the proceedings, they had fallen out of his hand onto the ground, forgotten in the heated arguments. 'But we really need to do this paperwork.'

Ed scowled. 'What the hell is it, anyway?'

'Something like a personality test, and a questionnaire about your sexuality.' Roy smiled, and Ed shot him the chilliest look he could summon. Which wasn't much, as he was still red as a barn, but still. 'Which would you like to get out of the way first?'

Ed had to think about it, for all of two seconds. 'The personality test,' he decided, and Roy nodded.

'Most people choose that one. Is there a place we can sit?'

Ed nodded as well and pointed at one of the willow trees in the backyard, from which swung a large, two-person swing.

'Then let's get it over with,' Roy said bracingly. He steered Ed over to the swing, and all Ed could think of for a moment was, _His hand is on my back... right above my ass._ He slapped himself mentally, by now thoroughly pissed at himself. _My God, I'm turning into what Hohenheim says I am – ready to jump any_ _guy who gets too close! Christ, Ed, get yourself together! He's_ twenty-four _!_

They sat, Roy shuffling the papers to the first one. 'Alright, Edward, are you ready?'

'If it's nothing like the SATs, then yes,' Edward said seriously, and Roy laughed.

'It's not. Just mildly annoying,' Roy smiled again. A strange look crossed his face as he cast his eyes back to the papers, but Ed could only tell that it was one of mild discomfort before it was gone. _What the hell?_

'The first question out of ten: What is your favourite physical activity?'

'Who wrote these?' Ed asked, scowling. 'They know that this test is being taken by teenage boys – what kind of answer do they expect?'

Roy stifled a laugh. 'Let's go with a different answer, hm?' He asked calmly.

'Fine,' Ed huffed. 'I like to fight – ai kido, tae kwon do, taijitsu, street fighting.'

Roy rolled his eyes. 'Why am I not surprised...?'

'What is that supposed to mean?' Ed demanded hotly, his scowl deepening. 'What – been taught that all homos are excessively violent? Hm, I guess we'd need to be to all be rapists and paedophiles.'

'Edward,' Roy said, laying the papers on his lap as his features turned dark. 'We have already discussed my views on homosexuality. I understand that you are frustrated and lashing out at -'

'Cut the psychological bullshit and say what you mean,' Ed interrupted.

'Fine. Shut the hell up before I bail on you and leave you here to your holier-than-thou father, your controlled mother, and the little brother that can't look you in the face any more.'

Ed was up like a shot. 'You take that back,' he warned.

'You're the one who wanted me to say what I meant,' Roy sighed. 'Now, sit. We have nine questions to go.'

 _Hohenheim shouldn't worry,_ Ed thought disgustedly as he flopped back down on the seat. _I can't tell if I'd sooner jump this bastard or kill him._

'Question two: How often do you consider people in a romantic light?'

Ed's eyebrow rose as he snorted. 'Very rarely, if at all,' he said, glaring. 'Most of the time I'm too busy with my work.'

'You work?' Roy inquired, looking almost relieved at having calmed Ed down.

'As an assistant to Professor Armstrong at the college,' he answered, 'Or personal studies at school.'

'Really?' Roy smiled. 'Professor Armstrong, Senior, or Junior?'

'Junior, why?' Ed asked suspiciously.

'He's an old friend of mine. Helps with funding for what I do.' Roy shook his head fondly. 'Funny how the world works.'

'Not so funny,' Ed snorted. 'Armstrong's the one who recommended you guys to my father.'

'Aha,' Roy smiled. 'Feel lucky. However, on the prior topic of questions..' He peered down at his paper. 'Question three: what do you like to do in your free time?'

'Work on my projects.'

'Your projects being...?'

'Science experiments,' Ed sighed. 'My last one was published in the Smithsonian magazine.'

'Oh?'

'On how solar flares affect ocean currents, resulting in more powerful El Niños,' Ed sighed, not wanting to talk about it. What he did in his free time was no one's business but his.

Roy smiled gently. 'Question four: what culture do you feel most closely associated with?'

'By which you mean...?'

'It could be a sub culture,' Roy explained, 'like the anime group, the goths, the sport players; it could be a world culture, like English, French, Italian –'

'Mexico,' Ed shrugged.

'Mexico?'

'Yeah,' Ed sat up, wrapping his arms around his knees. 'Or the Central Africans. They're very earthy people, resilient as steel. But, as a culture, they're both very vibrant and lively. It's infectious.' He sighed. 'I wish I was Mexican. Or African.'

'Wishes don't lead anywhere,' Roy said, setting aside his papers and moving, taking a seat on the ground and sitting in a half-lotus position.. 'Believe you me, they only bring you heartache. Even simple, half-hearted ones like you just made.' He smiled, cocking his head to the side. 'It doesn't do to dwell on dreams.'

'Don't quote Harry Potter at me.'

'Of course not.'

They fell into silence, Ed glaring at Roy, Roy staring at him. When the older man asked the next question, Ed almost missed it.

'If you could visit any place in the world, what would it be?'

'Hm? Oh. I'd go to Matsue, Japan.'

Roy's eyes brightened slightly with recognition. 'Isn't that near Izumo City?'

Ed stared. 'You know it?'

'My mother's family lives there,' Roy smiled. 'They care for the shrine on Bride Island. The island that you can see from Gesshoji Temple.' He laughed now. 'It's a beautiful village – I can understand why you would want to visit. Question six: What is your favourite book?'

'The Alchemist,' Ed shook his head ruefully. 'We read it in Spanish class.'

'And you liked it?' Roy asked, surprised.

'Like hell if I know why.'

'Question seven: If the world was to end today, who would you save? You can select up to three people.'

'Easy. Al, my little brother; my mom; and Winry Rockbell, my best friend.'

'Good, excellent.' Roy smiled. 'Question eight: if you could speak to one person, alive or dead, mythical or real, who would it be?'

'Ptolemy, the Egyptian doctor, mathematician, and alchemist.'

Roy frowned slightly, scrutinising Ed's face. 'I've never heard _that_ one. Why?'

Edward shrugged, swirling his finger in the seat as he sat back. 'I don't know,' he answered, turning his gaze from the older man to the sky through the branches of the tree. It was blue, but not quite as brilliant as he remembered from his childhood; it seemed like, long ago, the sun had made the sky bluer. 'I've just always been interested in alchemy.'

'The pseudo-science?'

'Yeah,' Ed smiled, looking back at Roy. 'the forerunner of chemistry. I just feel like if we had pushed it a little farther, if we had known a little more about physics and the laws of forces, we could have made something beautiful.' He laughed slightly. 'I want to study it in depth someday.'

'Well, as long as you don't become obsessed with the Philosopher's Stone, we should be fine,' Roy chuckled. 'Quest-'

'I'm not, though.'

'Hmm?'

Ed searched Roy's surprised face. 'That's not why I want to study the history of alchemy. They were looking for something else, too, did you know that?'

'Something else?' Roy looked mystified. 'What?'

'They were looking for an alkahest,' Ed's smile grew. 'A medicine that could heal all ailments. Can you imagine? No one would die of sickness anymore. The shortage of doctors in third-world countries wouldn't matter anymore – all of them could take doses of the alkahest and have their sicknesses healed. With more healthy people comes the ability for more of them to work. And the more who work on farms or in food production, the more food would be created. And eventually, no one would be hungry, no one would be sick. And I know,' Ed shook his head ruefully, 'an alkahest wouldn't solve all the world's problems, but by getting rid of the two main ones, don't you think the others would be easier to care for?'

Roy looked at him, obviously dumbfounded, his dark eyes wide and mouth parted slightly. 'Good to know _someone_ in this world has their heart in the right place,' he said roughly a moment later, looking away, and Ed caught the faintest tinge of a flush on his cheeks before he turned back, perfectly composed. 'Question nine: Do you have any recurring themes in your dreams, and, if so, what are they?'

Ed rolled his eyes. 'Can I ask the same question I asked about the first question?'

'Only if you mean it,' Roy replied, a small twinkle in his eyes. 'I need honest answers.'

'Dammit. Alright, fine,' Ed sighed. 'When I dream, I dream of fire.'

'Fire?'

'Most of my dreams,' Ed nodded. 'Never the same, but always fire, dancing and filling me, burning away my skin until I step out. And I'm always the same when I step out of my old self – taller, my hair a little tiny bit longer but still braided, and my arm is encased in metal.' He wiggled the fingers on his right hand. 'It's familiar, but I think that's because I've dreamt it so many times.'

'Memories of a past life?' Roy asked, scribbling this down, though as he hadn't done this with any of the other questions, Ed assumed it was for show.

'I don't believe in that,' Ed frowned. 'I'm atheist.'

Roy snapped back up, staring. 'And your entire family's Catholic?' he asked in wonder.

'No,' Ed said sarcastically. 'They're Buddhist, remember?'

Roy shook his head, amused. 'You're one precocious seventeen year old, I have to say.'

'I'm going to take that as a compliment,' Ed sniffed, sitting back and sticking his nose in the air, chancing a glance at Roy after a moment. The older man was attempting to not smile.

'As you should, _Lord Elric_ ,' Roy chuckled, giving in.

'Damn straight,' Ed said.

'Not to mention arrogant.'

'Eh?'

'And short to boot.'

'Dammit, I'm not short!' Ed shouted, leaping to his feet; above, several birds fled in terror from the willow trees.

Roy blinked. 'That got to you?'

'Shut up,' Ed fumed. 'I've got height issues. I was a normal sized kid and everyone else was a giant.'

'Height issues,' Roy repeated, scribbling that down as well. 'I'll remember that.'

'Yeah, you will, or I'll kick your ass.'

Roy smiled again. 'Alright, one last question: what attracts you to the gender you're attracted to?'

'What a stupid question,' Ed snorted. 'What attracts you to women?'

'You're avoiding the question.'

'You're avoiding the answer,' Ed stated in a final tone, then sighed at Roy's glare. 'Mea culpa, mea culpa. Alright, I'll give.' He looked back up at the sky. 'I just – don't think this is sexist, it's not meant to be – I just prefer the way men work, the way that we think. And before someone goes off in a rant about generalization, I really don't mean it that way.' He looked back at Roy. 'I've never been great shakes at dealing with people, you know? It's just genuinely easier for me to be attracted to men.'

'Continue.'

'I finished!'

Roy gave him a look. 'Continue.'

'Fine, you bastard,' Ed grumbled. 'Men are... well, fuck. I don't know how to describe it. And not every gay man feels the same way! I just... I just fall in love with _people_ , I guess. And if they tend to be male rather than female, then that's the way I am. No argument, no alternative, just me, whole and uncorrupted.'

'You could be a poet,' Roy quipped, writing this down before setting aside his pen. 'Really.'

'Fuck that,' Ed snorted. 'Not concrete enough. I need numbers, things I can touch and feel, things that always are exactly what they say they are. I don't have the subtlety for word play.'

'You'll need it for alchemy,' Roy advised, and his smile was sincere. 'I heard that all the old diaries and journals are written in code; they're _still_ discovering things in those old books.'

'Not surprised,' Ed murmured, reaching up and plucking one of the hanging willow leaves from its thin, spindly branch. 'Then again, not much surprises me these days.'

Roy shuffled his papers, but his eyes never left Edward's face; Edward knew this because he could feel their warmth on his cheekbones. 'Like what?' He cajoled softly.

'Like expecting my family to support me and my sexuality, regardless of personal beliefs,' The boy shrugged. 'Once you've been abandoned by your family out of the blue, not much surprises you anymore.'

'How long ago did you come out?' Roy asked, peering down at the new paper on his lap.

'Is that one of the questions from the questionnaire?' Ed asked suspiciously.

'It's also a question from my own curiosity,' Roy assured him, looking from the question to Ed's face. 'You don't need to worry so much, you know. I said I would help you.'

Ed looked at him wordlessly, then glared. 'I know, I know...'

'So answer the question,' Roy added.

'Say please.'

'Not bloody likely,' Roy smirked at Ed's look of outrage. 'C'mon, the faster you answer my questions, the faster I'm out of your hair.'

 _But is that what I really want?_ Ed thought, looking down at Roy's cheeky face. He was the first person who had offered to help him, the first person who had listened and not called him a freak or sick for what he was. _Do I really want him to leave me here, even if it's only for a day, or a week, or however long it is between these sessions?_

'I came out two weeks ago,' Ed shifted in his seat, the topic already uncomfortable. 'It was... explosive.'

'By that you mean...?'

* * *

_Hohenheim stared at him, dumbfounded. 'April Fool's was last month, Edward, and it's not yet June, so it's not the summer heat.'_

_'I...' Ed blinked. Hohenheim and his mother sat on the couch, staring at him._

_'I'm sure it's just a phase, dear,' Trisha said hesitantly._

_Ed sighed. 'No, Mom. It's not a phase.'_

_'Are you sure?' She tried, shooting a timid glance at the silent Hohenheim. 'Many good, Christian boys feel the same way, and then they meet the girl of their dreams and it all melts away. Is this because you haven't had a date yet? Honey, that doesn't mean that you're -'_

_'Mom, that's not why.' Ed took a deep breath. 'I -'_

_'I knew I shouldn't have let you spend all your time in the library,' Hohenheim said, and everyone fell silent. 'All those books have turned your head. I should have made you try out for baseball or football. Maybe rugby. Even American football might have helped.'_

_'Hohenheim,' Ed said quietly, keeping his insistent anger in check, 'There is nothing you could have done. I've always been this way.'_

_'No, you have not!' Hohenheim roared, slamming his fist on the coffee table. Trisha gave a small squeak of terror and Ed took a step back. 'Those goddamn queers got to you, with their evil books and sinning ways! What about your friend Winry? I thought you had a future with her!'_

_'Winry and I were never more than friends, Hohenheim!' Ed shouted. 'Never!'_

_'By God,' Hohenheim stood, eyes crazed. 'Who did this to you? Who? I'll kill them! I will!'_

_'Have fun with deicide,' Ed spat, disgusted and hurt._

_'Hohenheim,' Trisha said softly, laying a hand on his arm. 'There's no need to be violent. Our Lord Jesus preached love, not violence. Please. There are other ways.'_

_Ed gaped at his mother. 'Mom – you don't mean to say that -'_

_'Don't be so foolhardy, Ed,' she smiled. 'You're not alone in this. We'll help you get back on the right path, so that you will be forgiven by the Lord – and by yourself – for the accidental transgression into sin.'_

_'No,' Ed's eyes were wide. 'No – you two are insane -' He turned to flee, and found Al standing there, eyes impossibly wide and disbelieving._

_Ed couldn't face that, too, so he ran past his brother, running outside, just running to see how far he could go before he collapsed._

* * *

Roy was watching his face, his own absolutely still.

'I'm sorry.'

The sound whispered across the slowly darkening yard, and Ed realised that at some point during the telling, he had tucked his feet under his legs on the seat and curled up tightly, the tension in his body making him feel sick. He uncurled his body and forced himself to relax. _Bit of an oxymoron, that._

'It's not your fault,' he shrugged. 'My own stupidity in coming out.'

'Where'd you end up?'

'About six kilometres east of here, in the little village off the parkway.'

Roy sat up slightly, disguising it as a stretch. 'How about we get through the next three questions, hmm?' He asked, his eyes bright and smiling.

Ed blinked. 'All – alright?'

'Where do you most often feel these homosexual urges?'

'Do you really want me to answer that?' Ed asked with a grin, trying to lighten the mood. He couldn't tell if Roy was blushing, because his head was down, but he fancied he saw some pink just below Roy's hairline.

'An actual answer, Edward,' Roy looked up glaring; Ed grinned wider. Yep. Blushing.

'Everywhere,' Ed laughed at Roy's increased glare. 'By that, I mean that I feel it wherever I am. It's part of me.'

'What do you find attractive in a possible partner?'

'He has to have a mind that's sharp,' Ed nodded. 'He has to be able to keep up with me; looks are a bonus, not a required. He's someone with goals, knows where he's going, what he wants. And if he doesn't know where he's going, it's only because he found something important enough to make him forget about it. Oh! And he needs to be able to hold his own in a fight.'

'Why the last one?' Roy grinned.

'Because if he's got 'em all, he's bound to irritate the fuck out of me, and that means I'll probably be trying to kick his ass as often as I'm trying to be nice to him.'

'Is that what they call it these days?'

'Shut up.'

'Only one more question and then I'll see you in two days,' Roy shook his head, obviously amused. 'Why are you sure you're gay?'

'Because I'm physically and emotionally attracted to men,' Ed snorted. 'Any other stupid questions?'

'Nope, that's it,' Roy smiled. 'See you soon.' The older man stood and walked into the house, papers in hand.

Ed watched him leave, then he sank to the ground. The sky had darkened to a sort of periwinkle, and he could see the occasional star between the leaves of the willow tree as he sprawled out in a spread eagle. 'What the fuck was that?' he asked aloud, staring up at the sky. The ground beneath him was still warm from Roy's body, where he had sat, and Ed's skin drank the warmth in despite the warm nature of the evening.

'This is going to be hell,' he groused loudly, but he smiled anyway, He had help. He had someone to talk to, other than Winry, who listened but with a small trace of bitterness.

Roy was going to help him, even if he did come across as a total bastard, and that was enough to give Ed the courage to stand and make his way into the house. It was dark when he opened the door, and he didn't bother with the lights before trudging up the backstairs to his bedroom.

If he had, he would have seen Al standing there, watching him silently with large, confused eyes, as if he had never before seen his brother.

* * *

School was hell these days. It wasn't a small town, but it was the local Catholic school, so everyone knew everyone's business. And that meant Ed was now the outsider where, before, he had enjoyed a modicum of popularity.

'Queer,' people whispered threateningly as they shoved by him the halls. 'Faggot. Fudge-packer. Homo. Why don't you just kill yourself, huh?'

He ignored them best he could, but the names still got to him. He had managed to avoid a fight thus far because no one had thrown any punches at him, but with their increasingly threatening behaviour, that wasn't likely to last. Sometimes he thought the only reason they hadn't was because it was well known that he was the best fighter in the school, having taken martial arts classes since the age of four. Or maybe it was the way he could stare through a person like they weren't even there.

In any case, no one had attacked him yet. It was now just a matter of waiting until Roy could help him out of here.

As it had done for the past day and a half, the thought of his bastardly saviour made him feel a curious mix of apprehension and hope. Maybe _s_ _aviour_ was a bit of a strong word, but the amount of gratitude he felt to Roy was matched only by his irritation with him.

'Ed...?'

'Hm?' He said, turning. Behind him stood his friend Winry, dressed in her uniform, stained as always with the grease from whatever her new mechanical project was.

'Wanted to make sure you still could think,' she said, poking him with a handy pencil. You were pretty off in space.'

'Yeah, that happens sometimes.'

'I can't believe we graduate next week,' she sighed dreamily as they made their way to their last class of the day, Mechanical Science and Engineering (fondly referred to as Mecha). 'It's like a surreal dream... I dunno why the whole college system is so screwed up that I haven't gotten any return letters from where I applied.'

'I got in to the college a few towns over,' Ed shrugged. 'It's a good chem and bio school, so I'll do alright.'

Winry snorted. 'I hope I do badly in comparison to your "alright", because then I'll be getting perfect As.' She punched him light-heartedly in the shoulder, laughing. 'You're a genius, Ed – get used to it.'

As was the norm since he had come out to her, the subtle flirting got on his nerves. It was as if she believed that she could make him straight by attracting him to her, but he just couldn't get away from the fact that he had grown up with her as his sister. 'How did you do on the homework?' he asked, ignoring the jock who shouldered roughly past him.

'Eh, alright,' She shrugged modestly, pushing her hair back from her face. 'It was only basic AI programming – it's nothing that I haven't known how to do since sixth grade.' She shot him a smirk. 'Do you think Mr. Calder is giving us a break since we're about to graduate?'

'Not bloody likely,' Ed snorted. 'Has he given anyone a break, ever?'

'A girl can dream, can't she?' Winry sighed, entering the room, but she had given him a strange look. Was it something he said? Then it popped into his head; 'not bloody likely.' Where had he heard it before?

An hour and a half later, Ed was seriously annoyed with Winry, Mr. Calder had docked him ten points for not paying attention, and he couldn't remember where he had heard the phrase 'not bloody likely.'

'Remember to have your AI project done by Thursday!' Mr. Calder shouted as the bell rung and there was a stampede for the door. Ed hung back, waiting for most everyone else to clear out before exiting himself. He walked down the already empty hallways, pausing only to dump his things in his locker before heading for the back door. There, at least, he could be guaranteed to be minimally harassed by ignorant assholes.

Or so he thought until he opened the door and found himself face-to-face with half of the American football team.

'Hello,' Ed said, already searching for an exit. To his utter lack of surprise, there wasn't one. 'Mind if I pass?'

'Yeah,' said one to the left. 'We do.'

'We're sick of you giving our school a bad name,' said a ratty-looking one on his immediate right. 'We don't need the other teams thinking we're all shagging each other in the locker rooms.'

'Of course not,' Ed smiled sweetly, shifting. 'Not a terribly romantic place to sin, is it?'

'Drop the bullshit,' the one in middle with a scar across his cheek snarled. 'Everyone knows that you don't give a fuck about sinning. We, however, are good Christians, who follow the Bible, and the Bible says that homos are sinners.'

'And where, exactly, does it say that?' Ed snapped. 'Grow the fuck up and get out of my way.'

'No,' the Rat said, smiling now. 'You're not going -'

It's entirely likely that the Rat was about to say 'anywhere', but as at that moment Ed knocked him back on his ass with a well-placed punch, no one would ever know.

'You'll regret that!' The one on the left called menacingly.

Ed shrugged. 'Probably,' he agreed, 'but _damn_ was it worth it.'

'Shut up!' The one in the middle shouted. 'You idiots, there's still fourteen of us! We can take him down!'

They all hesitated one second more, and Ed struck again, kicking a boyish-looking senior in the jaw with his heel, feeling teeth crunch under the force of the kick. Unfortunately, the boy fell backward instead of into his comrades, so Ed couldn't take out anymore before he was caught.

The one who had been in the centre aimed a punch at his head, which he dodged by the skin of his teeth, only to be kneed in the stomach by a boy he had known since he had entered the first grade. He stumbled, choking on a breath, and one of the bastards got the smart idea to grab his braid.

'Knew you couldn't fight worth shit,' the one that had been on his left laughed, baring tombstone teeth.

'Watch me,' Ed snarled. He elbowed him in the stomach before cracking his head backwards on his throat. The boy wheezed for air, releasing Ed; he ducked out of the fray and caught his breath, watching with satisfaction as the boys started to shout confusedly.

'Where is he?'

'There you –'

'Ah, shit! Morrison, that's _me_ , you twat –'

'Look, he's outside!'

They leapt up as one, turning and about to howl –

'I think that's quite enough.'

A hand settled on Ed's shoulder, authoritative and firm. He turned, surprised, to find Mr. Calder staring down the boys in front of him.

'Inside, all of you,' He said coldly. ' _All_ of you. Attacking a lone man fifteen to one? Hardly sporting. Get in the principal's office – she's already waiting.'

'Thank you, sir,' Ed said between gritted teeth. _Great, now the jocks are just going to get worse._ He followed the other boys inside, watching as they half-heartedly punched each other and asked themselves whose stupid idea this had been. The jocks were ushered into the principal's office as soon as they arrived, leaving Ed and Mr. Calder outside, listening to the principal's steadily raising voice.

'I have taken the liberty of calling someone to come get you,' Mr. Calder said stiffly, refusing to look Ed in the eye.

Ed groaned. _Today keeps getting better and better,_ he fumed internally. _Now Hohenheim is going to know about this, and I am so_ fucked _if he knows about this..._

'He should be here soon,' Mr. Calder continued, and a moment later, he was called into the office.

Ed sank into a chair. 'Well,' he said bracingly. 'It could have been worse.'

'Yes. You could have lost.'

Ed snapped around, staring open-mouthed at Roy, who smiled cheekily. A flood of warmth made his cheeks start to colour, but he quashed it ruthlessly. 'I've only known you two days, and I knew this was coming. You should work on being subtle.'

'They jumped me as I was trying to leave!' Ed argued hotly as he followed Roy out into the hall. 'What could I do?'

'I'm not saying you did the wrong thing,' Roy frowned. 'I said it wasn't subtle.'

'Oh,' Ed snapped, 'You mean I should have taken it lying down?'

'Listening isn't one of your strong points, is it?' Roy said testily, turning to the right towards the front door. 'I said you could have been more subtle. In other words, you could have checked if people were there before you opened the door.'

'Sorry I'm not as paranoid as you,' Ed huffed.

Roy opened the door, held it there and ushered Ed before him. 'You're an openly gay seventeen-year-old nerd who goes to a Catholic school,' Roy pointed out. 'Paranoia might be in your best interest.'

Ed rolled his eyes and scoffed.

'Besides,' Roy smiled at him now, and that damned _warm_ feeling came back, 'I heard you threw the first punch, anyway.'

'Mr. Calder saw the fight _and_ managed to call you _and_ give you all the details in less than fifteen minutes?' Ed wondered, awed. 'Is he on speed, or something? People shouldn't be able to move that fast.'

'He doesn't,' Roy said after a moment, once his laughter had died down. 'He's just efficient. Unlike those kids who attacked you. Really, fifteen to one? They were a tad over-prepared.'

'Wait a second,' Ed frowned, scrutinising Roy's face. '...You know Mr. Calder? More than just meeting over the phone.'

'Yes,' Roy smiled. 'He was a student teacher when I was a senior in high school. I'm surprised he ended up here – he's a staunch Protestant.'

For some reason, that made Ed laugh. Roy's smile grew slightly, and he paused in front of a Hyundai parked almost on the curb. 'As you can see,' he said a little sheepishly, 'I was kind of in a rush to get here...'

'Where were you?' Ed asked, sliding into the passenger seat.

'At my office, about four minutes away,' Roy rubbed the back of his head. 'I'm afraid I may have startled my assistant.' He shrugged, then went to the driver's side and started the car. 'I don't think she's going to be very happy with me, unfortunately; she'll probably give me extra paperwork tomorrow as punishment.'

'Punishment?'

'It's an odd dynamic we have in the workplace,' Roy muttered, and Ed detected the slightest hint of a blush. Obviously, Roy Mustang didn't enjoy admitting his inability to control his staff.

'Could be worse, though, couldn't it?' Ed asked.

Roy gave him a look, a shift of the eyebrows and a narrowing of the eyes, that stated that Ed had no idea what he was talking about. 'You're coming in and meeting Hawkeye sometime,' Roy sighed. He pulled out onto the road and and pointed himself in the direction of Ed's house.

'Does my family...' Ed shifted in his seat uncomfortably. If Hohenheim knew about this, Ed would be punished – not for getting in a fight, but for not defending himself better. His stomach was starting to ache where he had been kneed.

'No. I felt this is something we should discuss with your parents, instead of letting the school give them an account from the mouths of the assholes who jumped you,' Roy smiled bracingly. 'So they don't know yet. But they know something happened, and that I'm bringing you over; we'll talk to them together.'

Ed shrugged and looked out the window, but inside he was thankful Roy had thought ahead. _This could have been really unpleasant if I had been forced to explain it myself_ _._ He snorted to himself. _Fuck that. It would have been hell._

'Are you alright?' Roy asked quietly beside him. Ed looked over, blinking.

'I'm fine,' He shrugged. 'Won't be the first time I'm yelled at by Hohen-'

'That's not what I meant,' Roy interrupted gently. 'Are you hurt?' They pulled to a stop at an intersection to let a line of traffic pass, and Roy placed his hand on Ed's arm. 'Mr. Calder didn't see as much as he had wished – he didn't know if you had been seriously injured.' Ed shivered under Roy's searching gaze, as if looking to see if Ed was hiding something. 'Were you hurt? Are you bleeding, or did you turn an ankle?"

'No,' Ed managed, turning away to look out the window. 'No, I'm fine.' Stupid Roy. Stupid hormones. Stupid, _stupid_ Edward.

Roy's grip tightened. 'Edward,' He said, and there was a definite edge to his voice. 'Tell me what happened.'

'I opened the door, kicked some ass, got in trouble,' Ed snapped, jerking his head back. 'That's all you need to know.'

'But that's not the full story, is it,' Roy said, and Ed knew that it wasn't a question.

'So what?'

'How am I supposed to help you if you don't tell me what's going on?' Roy demanded, and the last car passed. He pulled out with a crunch from the tires, anger etching fine lines in his face; his hand was still tight on Ed's upper arm. 'People can't help if they don't know there is a problem. Why are you keeping this inside? You're going to tell me you took on fifteen American-football players and came out without a scratch?'

'I caused them far more damage than they caused me,' Ed huffed. The grip tightened again and he almost winced; his muscle was starting to get sore.

'That isn't what I asked you,' Roy sighed, then released him. Ed rubbed his arm, and Roy flinched. 'I'm sorry, did I hurt you?'

'No,' Ed answered, looking away again. 'It's alright.'

'Dammit, Edward!' Roy snapped. Ed jumped, startled. 'I'm supposed to be helping you!'

'And you're doing a fucking fantastic job, aren't you?' Ed replied witheringly.

'That's because you won't –' Roy fell silent, took two deep breaths, and started again. 'Edward, either you agree to let me help you – which includes telling me when you're hurt – or I can't do anything. That is entirely your choice.' Roy sighed again. 'Don't cut yourself off at the knees. Making things harder for yourself to save your pride is a fool's act.'

Ed stayed silent, and Roy started to focus again on driving. 'You know, most kids are _happy_ to be getting help. Almost ecstatic, in fact.' He laughed in an exasperated way, then shot a glance at Ed. 'You're unlike anyone I've ever met, Edward.'

'Damn straight,' Ed murmured, still glaring – though, admittedly, the glare was lessened by the shame Roy had managed to instil.

Roy sighed, and pulled over; Ed realised that he was home, and a wash of anxiety made him take in a sharp breath.

'Are you alright?' Roy asked, looking askance at him.

'I'm fi-' He paused at Roy's glare, then gave a sheepish smile. 'I'm just nervous. I hate getting in fights with Hohenheim – he's a dick about everything.'

Roy smiled, a tinge of relief colouring his next words. 'Being nervous is normal. And he's not a dick about _everything_.' Ed gave him a look. 'He didn't kick you out onto the street, did he?'

Ed started to laugh at that, Roy's smile growing a full inch. 'Come on,' Roy said, opening his door. 'Let's get this over with.'

Ed's laughter stopped dead.

* * *

'Did you kick their asses?' Hohenheim demanded bluntly.

Ed winced, and wasn't surprised to feel Roy beside him do the same; there was a short exhale on the part of Trisha, and a small sigh from Al. 'I would have,' Ed managed, 'But there was the small matter of there being fifteen of the fuckers.'

Hohenheim snorted, as if he was in worse street fights daily. 'Just shows how weak those faggots have made you,' He said scathingly. He stood. 'Well, if that's it, I'm going back to work.' He shot Ed a poisonous glare then turned to Trisha. 'I'll be late. Don't wait up.'

And with that, he was gone, leaving a shocked silence behind him.

'That went better than I had hoped,' Roy said after a moment, and Trisha sighed.

'He's not normally this bitter,' she said apologetically. 'This issue has been under his skin...'

'Your husband could learn to control his temper,' Roy advised coolly, perfectly calm. 'If he wants this situation with Edward resolved quickly, he'll need to learn to be calm. Our Lord never meant for us to be harsh to our children, or to cause them pain; His Son preached forgiveness. Remember that.'

'Of course,' Trisha nodded, then gave a nervous look to Ed. 'If I may speak freely...'

'Why-ever should you not?' Roy asked piercingly, and Trisha flinched.

'I meant speak truthfully,' she tried, but she knew she was caught.

'The question still stands,' Roy said.

'Because Hohenheim and I do not always see eye to eye,' she said softly, drawing in a sharp breath. 'To be honest, I would prefer to leave Ed to his own devices – I'm sure he would grow out of it eventually, without your assistance.'

Ed froze. Was she thinking of dismissing Roy? He turned like a snap to the man, already about to argue, demand that he stay, hadn't he promised to help?

Roy held up his hand in a silencing motion. 'I understand,' he said. Ed was frozen silent – what could he do? Fuck, two days in and he was losing everything all over again. He would have buried his face in his hands, but he was still frozen in place.

The out-most reaches of ice began to thaw as Roy continued. 'However, your son is suffering from a particularly severe case, and I am worried that he will never grow beyond it. It may become permanent if he doesn't receive intervention.' Roy turned to smile at Ed, and his eyes begged Ed to say nothing. 'While it is entirely your choice, perhaps it would be wise to speak with Hohenheim first...?'

Ed felt his eyes snap open wide in shock as he realised where Roy was angling this conversation. Trisha paled dramatically, and immediately started to make excuses until Roy held up a hand again.

'If it's alright, I believe I'll continue today's session in the backyard,' he said, standing. 'Ed appears to be comfortable there.'

'O-of course,' Ed's mother stuttered, and Roy led Ed out the door, through the back hall, and outside. They walked over to the tree and the seat, and Roy tumbled violently backward onto the cushions with a small sound of pain.

Ed was at his side immediately, demanding in a quietly shocked voice, 'What's wrong? Are you okay?'

'Oh, my God,' Roy whispered, his eyes closed; they snapped open and pierced Ed, stabbed him in the gut. 'I'm so sorry you had to see that. I'm sorry.'

'About what?' Ed asked as he flopped down on the ground confusedly. 'You probably just saved my ass. Are you alright?'

'I hate doing that,' Roy murmured. He closed his eyes again and tipped his head back into the light so that Ed couldn't see his face.. 'I hate it – I wish I wasn't so good at it.'

'Good at what, dammit?' Ed snapped, frustrated.

'Manipulating people,' Roy replied in a small voice, and Ed snorted. Roy snapped up in surprise as the snort turned into a soft chuckle, and then a laugh, and then wild, unstoppable mirth.

Ed laughed until his sides hurt, until he was sure he was crying, and it was only until he sat up and wiped at his eyes that he knew for certain. Roy was staring at him, a hurt, confused expression on his face. 'What was that?' he asked and Ed almost started laughing again.

'Why the _hell_ would you ever feel bad about that?' Ed asked, a smile playing around his lips, his muscles aching to laugh again. 'Why would you _ever_ feel bad about using what you were born with? Use every tool, I say. So what if you manipulated her? Are you going to tell me that she's never manipulated someone else, or you yourself have never been manipulated?' He lifted his eyebrow at Roy's indignant look, and Roy had the grace to blush.

'No,' he admitted, and Ed smiled triumphantly. Roy smiled back, a small quirk at the corners of his mouth.

'We all have our own goals and our own way of getting them,' Ed said matter-of-factly. 'So being a manipulative bastard is in your nature. So what? Get over it and use it to your advantage. Take care of who you can and let other's decisions take care of them for you.'

'That's a very pessimistic thing to say, Ed,' Roy chided, but his small grin had become a smile – a true one, not the uncertain tilt of lips from a few minutes before.

'There's no such thing as pessimism,' Ed asserted, folding his knees up to his chest and bracing his hands on the ground. 'There's realism and idealism, and though I like to mix the two, my feet are firmly rooted in realism. And my reality says "live and let live". What does yours say?'

'I haven't the slightest idea,' Roy shook his head. 'You're much too mature for seventeen.'

'I'll take that as a compliment, whether or not that's how you meant it.' Ed smiled at Roy's laugh, the warmth flooding him, spilling out of his pores. 'Now that you're here to stay, what's going on today? We finished your stupid tests.'

Roy nodded. 'That we have done,' he agreed. 'Today we start devising a course of treatment that best suits your needs – in other words, we start trying to figure out how to make it look like you're 'improving' while we work to get you out of here.'

'What the hell looks like "improvement"?' Ed asked, reclining to the ground.

'Some I've worked with before have enlisted a close friend of the opposite gender to pose as their girlfriend or boyfriend,' Roy suggested, eyes twinkling madly.

'Hell no,' Ed snapped, not even bothering to sit up. 'I suck at acting.'

'You seem to do well under pressure,' Roy noted, a laughing note to his voice. 'Isn't this enough pressure for you?'

'Hold a gun to my head and I'll consider it,' Ed quipped from his position staring up at the sky, and Roy laughed. It sounded off, though, and after a moment it clicked in his mind.

'You were so depressed a few seconds ago,' Ed accused, sitting up. 'What are you, bipolar?'

'I'm just relieved,' Roy replied, looking amused with Ed's quizzical look. 'Some people hate me for what I do, and you just take everything you're shown and accept it as it is. You pry and pry until you have the truth of it, but you don't judge people one who they are; rather, you judge them on their actions.'

'So?' Ed demanded, trying to get to the point of the flattery and ignore the rising blush on his cheeks.

'I'm saying you're a remarkable person, Ed,' Roy explained succinctly, 'and I admire you for it.'

'What the fuck ever,' Ed said, flopping back down and pointedly ignoring Roy's laughter at his blush.

* * *

A week passed. Then two. By then, Ed had graduated (a thoroughly understated affair involving two thousand pictures and the ten-thousandth row with Hohenheim) and he was genuinely starting to feel comfortable in Roy's presence. He seemed to be everywhere, working tirelessly on Ed's behalf; he was there when Hohenheim demanded that he stay with them throughout college and Edward told him to fuck off; he was there when the same boys tried to kick his ass over the summer and got themselves arrested; and he was there to speak to Winry when she broke down in front of Ed, demanding to know why he had done this to her, didn't he see that she was trying so hard to accept him?

He was even in Ed's thoughts, embedded so firmly in the fabric of his life that it was a wonder that he had not always been there. And while there was a part of Ed that resented his dependence on Roy, the rest of him welcomed the change to his life with a vigour that almost scared him.

And it was during this time of wildly oscillating idyllic hours and painful conversations that it finally happened. The catalyst that would change Ed's life forever.

And, of course, Roy was there – a part of it. A part of him.

* * *

Al wouldn't speak to him, except the bare minimum he had to; and he was always nervous. Ed didn't know why – they had once been so close, but now Al was just closed off, and Ed couldn't tell if it was because of Hohenheim or Al himself.

'Why won't you talk to me?' He asked quietly one Wednesday afternoon, waiting for Roy to show for their (now weekly) meeting. Al jumped, looking at him as if struck, and his hand clenched tightly the windowsill he was sitting on.

'What – what do you mean, Brother?' Al asked, starting out on a squeak before regaining his voice. It was the first full sentence he had said in days to Ed.

'You know what I mean, Al,' Ed replied fiercely, ignoring the fact that Roy was pulling into the driveway. 'You won't look at me, won't talk to me, nothing. Why?'

'I –' Al looked terrified. Suddenly Ed was furious, so angry he would have exploded if he could have – though if his anger was at Al or himself, he couldn't tell. He leaned forward from the porch chair he was sitting in, tense and sharp.

'Dammit, Al!' Ed said loudly. 'You're my _brother_! Do you really hate me so much?'

'I don't hate you, Ed!' Al replied in the same tone. 'I just – I can't –'

'Can't what?' Ed asked darkly, his voice rough. The car door's slam almost brought him back to reality. Almost. 'Can't talk because you're frightened mommy and daddy will hear you?'

'You know that's not it, Ed!' Al said, standing from his perch on the windowsill. 'You know that's not it at all!'

'Then what is it?' Ed demanded.

'I – I just don't understand!'

'Understand what?'

'How this all happened!' Al shouted, the first to raise his voice. 'I don't understand, Brother! I don't understand how my family ended up this way, with Dad shouting all the time and Mom hiding in her room crying half the time and you bulldozing ahead as always! Don't you get it?' By now Al, calm, placid Al, was practically howling. 'You're the one who's changed, but you're the only one who's staying the same!'

Ed froze.

'You're the only constant in this whole family, Brother! And I want to trust you, but I can't! Don't you get it!' Al was almost crying now. 'I don't know what to do!' His hands had clenched into fists, and suddenly he punched Ed, full across the face. 'And if you had just not told _him_ , if it was just you and me and mom again –' through the pain in his jaw, Ed made sense of his brother's words. Shit, Al was... well and truly terrified.

'Al!' He shouted, and stood – and hugged him. Al froze, then collapsed, still crying, though now he did so silently, clinging to his shorter brother as if he was the only rock in a sea of uncertain waves threatening to drown him. This would have been fine, but then –

'What the hell is going on?' Hohenheim demanded, crashing out onto the porch. Al looked up, and Ed only had time to notice that his face blanched, pure white, before a burning pain at the nape of his neck told him Hohenheim had grabbed his braid.

'Let go of me, you fucker!' He shouted, and then Hohenheim punched him in the stomach.

He fell, doubled over and coughing, before his head was dragged back up by his hair. 'Look at what you've done to him!' Hohenheim hissed, voice dark and poisonous as Ed struggled to breathe through the pressure on his windpipe and the damage to his diaphragm. 'You've turned him into a sissy, and look at what he does now! Give him a month and he'll be one of you!'

Ed tried to cough out a response, but he just couldn't suck in enough air. Hohenheim kicked him in the side viciously. 'What now, you fag?' He asked furiously. There was the faint sound of running footsteps, but Ed couldn't hear them well over the rush of oxygen-deprived blood in his ears and the hiss of Hohenheim. 'What are you going to do? Cry like –'

Suddenly, air, and Ed gulped it down like a dying man, pushing himself to a kneeling position. He coughed, then looked up to see Al kneeling beside him, looking at him with a terrified look. 'Oh, my God, are you okay? Talk to me, brother!'

'Can't talk – if I can't breathe,' Ed snapped darkly, but his words had no effect on Al, who looked relieved. 'He's alright!' he said aloud, and Ed looked around.

Hohenheim was slumped on the wall, nursing what looked like a very tender jaw, and Roy stood in front of him, tall, imperious, with his fist looking bruised. His face, however, looked vaguely relieved.

'I'd do it again!' Hohenheim was saying hotly. 'Did you see –'

'I saw that both of your sons are going through a terribly difficult emotional time and you attacked one of them for comforting the other,' Roy cut in coldly. And that coldness, so very different from the warmth of his normal tone, cut Ed to the bone.

'I don't give a fuck, I don't want you or him here any further! You, meddling in how I raise my sons, giving my wife ideas –'

'Fine,' Ed coughed, standing (much to Al's shock.) His anger knew no bounds, but he stuffed it down, swallowed it, and fought to keep his words collected. Roy swivelled, staring at him as he spoke with a disconcertingly frightened look. 'Fine, you want me gone? Consider this goodbye and good riddance, dick head.' He looked down at Al who was staring at him. 'I'm sorry, Al,' he said sombrely.

Then he looked up and found himself cemented into place by Roy's stare, until he felt he would drown and lose all of his resolve unless he looked away soon. 'Thank you,' he said, 'and good luck.'

Then he turned and started running, kicking open the front door and putting all the anger in his head, all of the pure fury, into his speed, until he was sure he was flying.

'Ed!' He heard Roy call after him, panicked, but the voice, familiar as Al's (why did it sound so anguished?) was already far behind, beyond, gone.

Ed trusted his feet to carry him over the earth, to carry the speed he had started with, and the fury was so powerful it gave him more, speed that he could never have imagined. Everything blurred around him until it was nothing more than a cloud, and he could feel the wind streaming like wings past him, pushing him forward, faster than he had ever run before or would ever run again.

He didn't know where he was when he finally stopped. Only that there was still fury beating in his veins and each cough brought up something that tasted suspiciously like blood. There was too much anger – too much – too much –

He realised he was in a glade with a small pool in the middle, little more than a puddle, with rowan trees that curved into a cavern of green. To one of these, he murmured an apology, and punched it. The fury lessened slightly, and he punched it again, once more apologising.

Soon he was punching it viciously, not noticing that his knuckles split and spilled blood on the bark, and that there was more of it dripping down his chin onto his shirt with every 'I'm sorry', until there was an endless litany bubbling up, red on his lips.

Endless it was, burning holes in his skin, every 'I'm sorry' becoming less clear until he didn't know if they were directed at the tree, Al, Roy, or himself.

A hand, cool and yet warm, caught his right wrist before the hand could beat the bark again. Ed turned, not even caring who it was, and collapsed onto his knees, still muttering, 'I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorry...'

'You have nothing to apologise for,' Roy whispered, and Ed looked up. The sky had darkened, and pinpoints of light reflected in Roy's liquid eyes – stars, sharp and hot. 'Nothing, you hear me? What happened is not your fault.'

'I was apologising to the tree,' Ed snapped, but his voice, so hoarse and weak, made it sound like a half-hearted protest. Roy laughed, and his voice sounded weak, too. And tremulous, like he had been sick.

'I was so worried when you disappeared,' Roy said, helping Ed stand. Placing one hand around Ed's waist for support, he led the exhausted teenager to the car. Ed sat gratefully on the road's shoulder as Roy rustled around in the glove department before returning with ace bandages. 'I've never seen someone run so fast – I'm going to swear until the day I die I saw an after-image.'

Ed chuckled softly, not even blinking at the pain as Roy began to wrap his hand in the bandage, promising to clean them soon.

'Where are we?' He asked when his left hand was done and Roy started on the other hand. He lifted his hand and wiped at his mouth with the bandage; blood, thick and dark, stained the white, but when he coughed again, there was no longer a metallic taste.

'Roughly twenty kilometres from your house.'

At that, Ed started. 'Twenty _kilometres_ , you said?'

Roy nodded. 'You ran for an hour and a half. I think. I couldn't find you.' At that, Roy's face settled into a strange look that Ed couldn't name in his exhausted state. 'I was terrified.'

Ed shook his head and shot him a tired smile. 'You know me,' he said, cheerfully quiet. 'If Hohenheim can't kill me, nothing can.'

'You could have been run over,' Roy said, and then Ed could name the expression. Desperation. 'You could have tripped and broken your neck. Someone could have picked you up and you could be miles away from me by now, and in more danger than you could possibly ima–'

Ed rolled his eyes and tiredly clamped his left hand over Roy's mouth. He could feel the heat of Roy's skin right through the bandage as the older man blushed. 'I'm fine, okay?' Ed said, his lips falling into an exasperated grimace. 'Stop worrying. Realism, remember? Not idealism.'

Roy looked at him as Ed let his hand drop, and once the right bandage was secured Roy pulled him into a tight hug.

Ed froze, the heat of Roy pervading every pore of his body, and a snippet of a conversation that felt years away flashed in his mind.

_'Where do you... feel these urges?'_

_'Everywhere.'_

Ed gingerly let his hands come up and rest on Roy's back, and then found himself hugging the older man just as tightly, without his own permission.

'Thank God you're alright,' Roy whispered.

'Atheist,' Ed reminded him, pulling away and shooting him a tired smile. His eyes started to fall closed, and just before he tripped off the brink to sheer exhaustion and sleep, he heard, very quietly:

'What the fuck ever.'

* * *

Ed woke up in a daze, trying to make sense of what he was feeling. There was a distinct lack of asphalt underneath him, which was what he remembered last, and no cool night air. It was disorienting, to say the least, and he struggled to sit up.

'Ah, Mr. Elric. You're finally awake.' An unfamiliar voice said cheerfully, but there was a sharp note of tension in the warmth.

Warmth...

Roy!

Ed snapped his eyes open, but there was no sign of the tall, dark-haired man in the white room. There were some softly beeping machines, and a middle-aged, thin man with squarish glasses in a white coat.

Ed immediately recoiled. He hated doctors.

'Where am I?' He demanded harshly, moving to get out of bed, determined to leave as soon as possible. A sharp pain struck him in the gut and he doubled over, coughing.

'Not so quickly, kiddo,' the doctor said kindly, though Ed instantly took offence at the pronoun "kiddo". 'You're in the hospital, and you've been asleep since last night.'

'What time is it?' Ed asked, easing his back slowly onto the mattress.

'Four in the afternoon. Your mother and father just left to get something to eat in the cafeteria.' There; Ed again noticed the sharp note of tension in the doctor's voice, particularly at the word "father". 'You've had some minor muscle damage, and your knuckles most assuredly would have been infected if your counsellor hadn't been there so soon.'

'Where is he?' Ed asked slowly.

'At work,' the doctor smiled. 'Oh, right. I'm Dr. Maes Hughes, but you can call me Maes.'

'Do you know if...'

'If what?' Maes' eyes were piercing, like Roy's.

Ed swallowed. 'Is my brother here?'

Finally, Maes smiled, and it was so warm and friendly Ed felt some of his initial distrust evaporate. 'He's asleep on the couch,' Maes said, gesturing. 'I'll go inform your parents that you're okay.'

'Um...'

'I'll take my time,' Maes promised, and with a cheerful wink, he was gone.

Ed stood slowly, taking care not to hurt his bruised muscles, and stumbled over to the white couch, where Al lay, still and nearly silent.

'Al,' He said quietly, and his brother's eyes snapped open.

'Oh, my God,' He said, sitting up so abruptly that he almost knocked Ed over. 'You're okay!'

'Not quite,' Ed smiled sheepishly. 'Help me back?'

'Of course!' Al said brightly, voice brittle in its forced cheer, and wrapped an arm around Ed. He led him back to the bed and set him down gently.

'How are you?' Ed asked when he was settled, and Al gave him a happy smile.

'Much better now,' He said, his grin luminous. 'Do you know how many people you worried? Anyone who heard you were in the hospital immediately started freaking out. Winry threatened to kill Dad, and I was practically sick. Mr. Mustang was almost out of his mind.'

Ed's eyebrow rose. This was the most Al had said in one go in a very long time, and the first time Ed had ever heard him mention Roy. 'He was so worried, you could see it in the lines of his face,' he said casually, as if Ed knew this already, 'But he stayed behind to talk some sense into Dad.'

'He got through?' Ed blurted, and Al laughed.

'Barely,' Al smiled, 'But he did.' There was a moment of silence, and as Al's face grew sombre Ed knew he was steeling himself to say something.

'Yes, Al?' he prompted gently, aware that Al would need a starting point.

'I just wanted to say,' Al said, his eyes sad, 'that I'm very sorry for the way I've treated you. When you hugged me, I realised I was wrong to think you had changed.'

Ed opened his mouth to say something – what, he wasn't sure – but Al held up a hand to still him. 'You've always been this way, I think. And if that's true, and there was nothing wrong with you before –' here Al took a deep breath – 'then there can't be anything wrong with you now. Which means that being gay isn't wrong. Meaning Dad _is_ wrong. And so I'm going to stick by you, and there's nothing that will change that.'

Ed was speechless.

' _They_ changed, not you,' Al's smile brightened. 'And I'm sorry I ever lost faith in you. From now on, until they realise it, I'm with you. And even then I'll be here.'

Ed swallowed. 'Thank you,' he said quietly, and Al hugged him again.

Just as Al pulled away, someone knocked on the door. 'Come in,' Ed said loudly, and the door opened to his mother's anxious face.

It relaxed visibly when she saw him sitting up and wide awake, and she stepped more fully in. She seemed uncertain of her welcome, but when Ed smiled and said, 'Hiya, Mom,' something he hadn't called her in years, she burst into tears and ran over.

'I'm so sorry, sweet-heart,' she said shakily, falling to her knees beside Al, who looked thoroughly startled. 'I'm so sorry that this is what it's come to. God forgive me, I brought this on you –'

Hohenheim sidled in, staying near the door, and Ed immediately tensed; out of the corner of his eye, he saw Maes do the same. Hohenheim was glaring at him darkly, and Ed knew that this wasn't over.

For the next half hour, his mother wept over him, Al stood awkwardly by, and Hohenheim just glared. Ed didn't say a word beyond, 'It's okay,' to Trisha, which only made her cry harder. Then Maes said that visiting hours were over, and that Ed was being held overnight for observation.

'His body's been through a lot of stress for the last twenty-four hours,' Maes said, looking pointedly at Hohenheim as he did so. 'It wouldn't be healthy for him to go back into such an environment right now.'

Hohenheim's eyes narrowed. 'Are you –'

Maes' look of cold indifference shut him up. 'Yes, I am,' he said coolly. 'Now, you can leave of your own free will, sir, or you will be escorted out. This hospital is an area of rest and well-being, and Mr. Elric has been so tense since you walked into the room I'm surprised he's not coughing blood up again.'

Al looked at Ed sharply, horrified, and Ed winced as he realised that Maes probably hadn't imparted that little piece of knowledge to his family. As it was, Trisha gasped, and Hohenheim paled drastically.

'Again?' Trisha whispered faintly.

'Again,' Maes confirmed. 'We had him on an IV for two hours; he lost a lot of blood, which is why it was remarkable he was still conscious when Mr. Mustang found him. If he hadn't been found, I suspect the lining of his lungs would have ruptured and your son would be dead.'

Trisha turned and stared at Hohenheim, who looked nauseated.

'If that isn't clear enough,' Maes continued coldly, 'I would like to ask you both to leave. If Alphonse would like to stay, that would be alright; he seems to have a relaxing effect on Mr. Elric. Any further questions?' Maes' glare said, quite clearly, that if his instructions weren't followed security would be pounding at the doors.

Hohenheim, supporting the faint Trisha, left swiftly, and Ed turned to Maes, wide-eyed. 'I lost enough blood I could have _died_?' he repeated into the silence of the room.

'That you did,' Maes agreed, suddenly cheerful again. 'But you're a fighter, I can tell; and if I told your father –' again, the note of tension, '– a little white lie about the rupturing of your lungs, I can be forgiven.'

'They actually ruptured?' Ed demanded, panicked. Maes chuckled.

'They were never in any danger – the lining of your stomach was harmed, which was why you coughed up so much blood. But, according to the last scan, you seem well onto the road to recovery.'

Ed took a deep sigh of relief, and Al shook his head. 'Thank you, Doctor Hughes,' he said politely, and Maes laughed again.

'Just Maes, kiddo. Okay?' Al nodded cheerfully, and Maes smile grew. 'Unfortunately, the last half hour has probably exhausted Edward; he should sleep.'

'I'm right here,' Ed started to say, but halfway through a huge yawn cracked his jaw. Al smiled, and Maes laughed again.

'Go to bed, Brother,' Al said cheerfully. 'I can find something to do.'

Or, at least, that's what Ed thought Al had said; he couldn't be sure, because he was already asleep.

* * *

The fire that had been absent from his dreams for the past weeks made an appearance, bright and clear. He welcomed the familiarity of it, the sheer heat and comfort that came with the burning away of everything, leaving him new – or, perhaps, old.

He stretched out his hand, beckoning the fire to his flesh, and though it slid along his skin, kissing it with intense heat, it did not burn him away. Confused, he played with it, letting it slip around him until he was cocooned in the fire, but still nothing.

A flash of silver, and the fire fell away, leaving him to spin on his heel. There he was – rather, the person he became when the fire burned him away. Arm encased in – no, his arm was made of metal. Ed watched with fascination as he stared into the eyes of himself, gold meeting gold, one amused, one confused.

The silver rose, gun-bright, metal sliding silently over metal, as his other pointed behind him.

He followed the gesture, and started to find Roy standing behind him with a soft smile on his face.

But, no; it wasn't the Roy he knew. This Roy was dressed in a dark blue uniform, trimmed in white and ropes of gold braid, with stars and ribbons pinned to his chest; he wore white gloves, on which was sewn some form of circle, a little fire emblem at the very top of the uppermost triangle. A patch covered his right eye, as if he had lost it in battle, and his face was slightly harder, as if he had borne too much for one man.

A whisper of fabric, and his other walked past him, smiling in that cocky, self-assured way that he himself wore whenever he was about to thoroughly trounce someone – or was just genuinely happy. As he walked, the other Roy's gloved hand came up and clasped the other Ed's metal one, the white stark against the silver of his hand.

They said not one word, but Ed could understand easily enough. Comrades in arms, brothers, possibly more. From the looks on their faces, happy and yet so bitter, definitely more, just never spoken.

They looked to him again, and their eyes were bright – his eyes shining and golden, Roy's eye liquid with unspoken promises. Roy lift his free hand and snapped his fingers; on the back of his hand, the circle flared to life and fire blazed, burned the air around the true Ed, crackling and burning.

It was intense, so much so he felt himself waking up, but their lips mouthed something he could see, even as it all faded to black.

' _There's no reason. No logic. But don't forget._ '

* * *

Ed's eyes opened into the dark blue of the hospital room. After the heat of his dream, it was chill in the sterile room, and even the sound of Al's relaxed, soft snoring on the couch wasn't enough to erase the feeling of emptiness from the room.

' _Don't forget_.'

 _Don't forget what?_ Ed thought confusedly. All he remembered of his dream was the heat – unforgiving, and yet so gentle it was almost tender – and the image of a metal hand clasping a gloved white one.

The metal hand was his but – who was the other in the dream?

' _There's no_ _reason. No logic. But don't forget._ '

'Don't forget _what_?' he thought aloud quietly, irritation colouring his voice dark.

There were muted voices outside the door, and the door opened slightly, allowing a slice of white light to arc across the room and strike the opposite wall, the reflection of which almost blinded Ed.

'I think I can check on him and not disturb him, Maes,' a soft and warm voice said. 'You know what state of mind I've been in. I just want to see if he's okay.'

'Why won't you take my word for it?' Maes asked crossly, but there was an understanding note to his voice, kind and sweet.

'You know me,' the warm voice said. The door opened wider, and Ed watched as Roy stepped through, closing the door with a quiet click.

There was a soft sigh, and the dark blue of the room couldn't hide Roy's tall figure, or the way he was slightly shaking. Ed sat up, and Roy's head swivelled his way, dark eyes bright in the gloom.

'I'm okay, you know,' Ed murmured quietly. 'You didn't need to worry so much.'

'You were on an IV and unconscious for most of the day,' Roy said sensibly, walking over and making his steps nearly silent for Al's sake. 'Of course I was worried.'

'It's not a big deal,' Ed huffed, watching Roy sit gingerly on the edge of the bed. 'I'm really okay. According to Maes, I just have a bit of damage to my stomach, and a bad case of exhaustion.' He smiled, not sure if Roy would be able to see it in the dark. 'I've been in the hospital for worse.'

'Not when I could have prevented it,' Roy said, his voice small in the suddenly vast room.

'You couldn't have done jackshit, and you know it,' Ed replied, trying to make his voice reassuring. 'As it is, you apparently saved my life.' Ed blushed at that, and was relieved to realise that Roy's eyes hadn't adjusted to the gloom. 'I owe you for that.'

'You owe me nothing,' Roy smiled, and Ed, who was used to the darkness, could see the small frown that came with it. 'I'd do it again. It's part of the job.'

'But I do,' Ed argued. 'Karma. I'll pay you back someday.'

'Thought you were atheist,' Roy joked, but his voice was tremulous, as if he was holding in what he really wanted to say.

'I am,' Ed pointed out, 'But that doesn't mean that I don't believe in what I can prove. I've seen too much karma in my life to not believe in it. After all, it's even written down in the basics of physics – you can't win, you can't break even, and you can't get out of the game.'

'You can't get something from nothing, you can't return to the same state you once were in, and even your atoms will again be reused,' Roy translated, smiling again. The frown was gone. 'But honestly, you don't owe me anything. I wouldn't take anything from you, anyway.'

'The universe disagrees, but I'll let you continue on your cute little path of un-enlightenment,' Ed sniffed.

Roy sounded considerably offended, squawking (as quietly as possible), 'C- _cute_?'

'Yes, cute,' Ed repeated, but his face was burning. 'It's childlike – innocent, you know?'

'Me? Innocent?' Now Roy sounded indignant.

Ed, sensing that this conversation was headed down a road that in no universe would end well, asked, 'Maes said you were at work.' Roy shot him a look at the rapid subject change, but he pointedly ignored it. 'Where do you work?'

'I work at the college,' Roy said, obviously acquiescing to Ed's awkward need for a different conversation. 'I'm the Dean's senior assistant.'

'Knew you were old,' Ed joked, and Roy scowled.

'I am _not_ old,' he protested, 'It just means that I'm the second most powerful person on campus.'

'Don't let all that power go to your head, now,' Ed chided, suddenly playful.

'Shut up, Ed.'

'Make me.'

Roy glanced at him, and Ed felt the conversation look back at the road he had forced it away from longingly, as if it wouldn't be deterred.

'Well, it appears that you're alright,' Roy said, and stood. Ed lay back down, not tired in the slightest any longer, and Roy smiled down at him. 'I'd better beat it before Maes decides to poison me for torturing his short-order patient. I'll see you –'

Ed lunged up, furious, and snatched at Roy's collar, dragging him down with a startled yell. 'Are you calling me _short_?' He demanded angrily, then froze.

Roy's eyes were wide, but heated – open and saying things that Ed couldn't decipher if handed the code. His breath stuttered over Ed's lips, and where it touched Ed's skin it felt like Roy had set it aflame.

This was dangerous, Ed's mind knew, and before he could do something stupid, he shoved Roy away, huffing, 'Oh, whatever.' But the damage was done.

Roy stepped away, his face pink even in the darkness, and his eyes were burning. He looked for a moment as if he wanted to do something stupid himself, but he shook it away before standing straight. 'Good night, Ed,' he murmured, and fled before Ed could realise that his voice was weak.

Ed stared at the door long after it had closed, wondering what the hell had just happened, before turning his gaze to the ceiling. 'Fuck it all,' he muttered, and promptly went back to sleep.

* * *

The next day, Ed was shaken awake gently by Maes, who informed him that it was time to go. He was bundled into the car by his tight faced mother, and Al promptly fell asleep despite the short drive.

And all the while, he was plagued with thoughts of Roy – and more importantly, his dream.

He was now certain that the other person in his dream had been Roy, but he couldn't understand what they had said. _There's no reason_. There was always a reason, wasn't there? Everything was the direct result of something else, meaning everything happened for a reason. So saying there was no reason made no sense. _No logic_. Granted, there were many things not entirely logical about his life at the moment – cough, his dream, cough – but for the most part everything made sense. He could at least understand the causes for most everything. At least.

 _But don't forget_.

Don't forget what? That question ran circles in his head, and he found himself searching every memory he could find in his tired brain to try and think of what he could have forgotten – or had not yet forgotten. But there was nothing. Nothing he should remember – but a faint heaviness on his right arm.

The car stopped, and he started; his mother turned back and smiled nervously at him. 'We're home,' she said, as if he couldn't tell. 'Do you want any help?'

'Nah, I've got it,' he said in a low voice, then turned to Al. 'Hey, Al. We're home.'

'Already?' the boy asked groggily, rubbing his eyes free of sleep. 'Huh. I guess we are.'

They clambered out, and Trisha bid them a quick goodbye before she went grocery shopping. Al helped Ed inside (wincing as he was every few steps) and promptly went up to his own room, exhausted from worry and troubled dreams.

Ed sat in the living room, moving only once to get a blanket, and then he only moved to the hallway, got one from the closet, and went back to the sofa, curling up under the thick quilt. His back was turned to the room, facing the cushions, and his eyes traced the soft green threads, looking for shapes and patterns as he had when he was a child, making up fanciful stories for every image he spotted.

This time, though, he made no stories, nor did he really comprehend what he was seeing. His eyes flicked back and forth without his permission, and after a moment, silently, a tear rolled down his cheek.

Fuck, this wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that Hohenheim wasn't in trouble for beating his kid, it wasn't fair that Al was practically dead with worry, it wasn't fair that Mom was faint and frail and looked like she was about to shatter, and it most definitely wasn't fair that the one person he had come to depend on seemed to be growing more and more out of reach.

'Well, guess what, Ed?' he said aloud, quietly, his voice muffled by the fabric he was speaking into. 'Life isn't always fair. Sometimes you get fucked over. You _know_ this.' He wiped at his eyes with the back of his left hand, now lightly bandaged and only a little sore. _So why the fuck am I c_ _rying?_

He knew that, too. Knew he was crying for Al and how hard it was for him to understand or make true peace with it; for Trisha, who was obviously caught between husband and son; for Roy, because Ed didn't understand why he felt this way or these dreams were haunting him and he was certain this was what was causing the new distance between he and Roy.

Because he was certain he had never trusted someone like this, and he supposed that scared him. He wasn't even certain that he trusted himself that much.

The water ran down his cheeks in stinging lattices, darkening the fabric under his eyes from a light, sunny green to a mountainous colour. And it stung him until there was nothing more to cry for and he was empty. Hollow and thin, cool even under the warm quilt.

He took comfort from being curled underneath the thing and braced against the stiff cushions; it felt almost like he was being held, and if he could even vaguely simulate such a loving gesture, he was going to. He knew he needed all the love he could get now, lest he sink back into the dark depression he had felt before meeting Roy.

Suddenly, the thought of being held morphed to one of pure warmth and understanding, as if Roy was there now, arms wrapped around him in a hug and speaking sense to him. _You won't feel depressed if you let go,_ he seemed to whisper to Ed's tired mind. _Just because some times are dark doesn't mean that's all they'll ever be. Have a little faith._

 _In who?_ Ed asked tiredly, nestling deeper into the sofa, as if seeking to hide within its depths and never come out again.

 _In me,_ Roy's imagined voice said cheekily. _I'll pull you through. I'm here, and I'm not leaving._

And so Ed slipped off into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

'Ed. _Ed._ '

'Lemme sleep,' he mumbled, turning his face into the sofa. He didn't give a fuck who it was, he was tired.

'Ed, you need to get up _now_.'

'Fuck you.'

'Ed...!' There was a rough shake to his shoulders, and he struggled to sit up. When he saw Roy's face, anxious and pale in the darkness of the living room, he was immediately wide awake.

'Roy!' he whispered in shock. 'What the hell're you –'

'Ed,' Trisha's voice said from the darkness, and Ed jumped, 'we don't have a lot of time. Please don't argue.'

'What's going on?' Ed asked, confused.

'We're leaving,' Roy said and his voice was low.

'Leaving?' Ed looked from Roy to his mother, then back. 'Why? What the hell is this?'

'Ed!' That was his mother. 'Please... it isn't safe for you here.' Her voice was soft and heartbreakingly sad.

'Isn't safe?'

'We're worried that Hohenheim might do you more damage if you stay any longer,' Roy said, and his voice was urgent. 'It's late, Ed. He'll be home soon; we need to hurry.'

'Wait. What about Al?' Ed asked, standing abruptly and hissing in pain. Before Trisha could move, Roy was already at his side, a cool hand on his stomach, applying pressure. To Ed's surprise, it helped immensely.

'He's asleep upstairs,' Trisha answered, taking Ed's other side and leading them out of the room. 'Mr. Mustang and I decided this was for the best the day...' she couldn't finish, but Roy and Ed knew what day she spoke of anyway.

'Does Al know?'

'No,' Trisha said. 'It was too dangerous. I'll tell him tomorrow. We just want you to be safe.'

'Where am I going?' Ed asked, stumbling on the door jamb to the back yard. Trisha released him, leaving him primarily dependent on Roy for painless movement.

'I don't know,' Trisha said, pale faced. 'But I'm putting you in Mr. Mustang's hands. You'll keep him safe, won't you?' She asked, as if needing one last amount of reassurance that Ed would not end up in the hospital again, on an IV and looking for all the world as if he'd never wake up.

Roy nodded. 'With my life,' he promised, and Ed knew those weren't simple words meant to make her feel better; it was true.

A car pulled into the driveway, and Trisha's already pale face went completely white. 'Hurry!' she urged, and turned, fleeing back into the house and closing the door silently.

He paused, giving the backyard one last, long look. The willow trees he had climbed as a child, the swing where he and Roy had sat, the fence he had painted by himself when he was thirteen...

'Come on, Ed,' Roy urged, his voice harried but not unkind. 'We need to go.'

The engine rumbled its last as they made their way around the opposite side of the house, and twice Ed's heart nearly stopped when one of them trod on a leaf or a stick, terrified the Hohenheim would hear them. Once, he tripped, and only Roy's arm around his waist kept them from being caught.

Finally, they left the yard, and practically jogged down the street; behind them, Ed could hear the first inklings of shouting, and from the tenseness of Roy's hand on his hip, he could tell that Roy had heard it, as well.

They came to Roy's car, and after helping Ed into the passenger seat, he ran around to the driver's side. Ed heard suddenly the roar of an engine, not from Roy's car, and Roy slid into the seat behind him, looking ashen.

'Let's go,' Ed said quietly, and Roy nodded.

He turned the key and pulled out into the street, and tried his very hardest to look like any other car on the streets at ten at night. But every pair of headlight Ed saw carried the demonised image of his father, furious and racing after him.

Roy was jumpy, as well, obviously flinching whenever he saw an older man with blond hair and checking the colour and make of every car that passed. But, as dark street after dark street became yet another dark street, with no threat present, they both relaxed, until Roy pulled to a stop in front of a small, light blue house and cut the engine.

Silence for a few moments was the hell Ed had to endure before he realised that no one was following. '...Where are we?' he asked, very quiet.

'Your new home,' Roy said, his voice equally soft; the quiet in the car felt almost as if they were any louder, Hohenheim would find them. 'The top apartment. Your mother has agreed to pay the first three months rent, giving you time to find a job and get into the rhythm of things at the college.'

'What?' Ed blinked. 'My own apartment...?'

'Yes,' Roy smiled. 'I'll be around to help you, but consider yourself effectively cut off from your family for the present moment.'

'What about Al?' Ed immediately homed in on the only problem. 'Did you see Hohenheim's face when he saw me hugging him? He's next!'

'No one's next,' Roy replied, sounding slightly alarmed. 'He'll be –'

'What if he won't be?' Ed interrupted. 'What if he's in danger? And you're just sitting here instead of helping him –'

'I've done the most I can do, Ed,' Roy cut in sharply. 'I can't do anything more at the moment.'

'Then I'll do it!' Ed snapped fiercely. 'I won't leave him to that _bastard_ , no way in fuck! He'll kill him! Think you're worried about me? What will happen when Hohenheim realises I'm gone? He won't think to blame Mom – he'll go straight for Al's jugular! We can't leave him there!'

'You don't have a choice!' Roy snarled. 'I'm not going to risk losing you to save your brother!'

'That's because you don't get it!' Ed growled, already reaching for his seat belt. 'No one you care about is in danger – just your goddamn pride!' He unbuckled himself and ducked out of the car. 'I'm not going to sit here and do nothing!'

'Everything's in danger right now, Ed!' Roy argued back, getting out of the car hastily and glaring at him over the top. 'Everything, you hear me? You go back there and I can't guarantee your safety!'

'Fuck my safety!' Ed snarled, furious. 'If I have to, I'll kick your ass to get to Al! He's my brother – I could never just leave him!' Ed's glare became more fierce. 'You don't understand at all – he's the most important thing right now!'

'You are, Ed!' Roy snapped. 'I won't let you disappear on me!'

'You've never had someone you love in a position like this!' Ed argued. 'You don't –'

'Yes, I have,' Roy whispered fiercely, and in four quick strides he was on Ed's side of the car. 'Don't you get it? I won't let you go!'

Ed made to run away, despite the damage to his stomach, but Roy caught his wrists and pinned them to the car. 'You can't disappear on me again!' Roy hissed. 'I was so terrified – I didn't know where you were, whether you were okay or not, and then I found you, spitting up blood and breaking your hands – God dammit, Ed, I can't let you go back into danger now!'

Ed stared up at him, unable to move both because Roy had him pinned and because what he was saying was finally starting to sink in. 'Don't you get it, you insufferable _brat_?' Roy murmured, his voice no less angry, no less intense. 'You can't leave Al because you love him, and I can't let you go because I love _you_!'

Ed could only stare, pinned as he was, and Roy did not look away, choosing to face potential failure and misery head on rather than turning away. He was anxious, yes, and angry, but he was courageous. 'Son of a _bitch_ , Ed,' Roy released a long, slow breath. 'I am not going to let you go anywhere near Hohenheim again, if I have any say in it. If I could have brought Al, I would have, but there was no chance we would have made it if we had taken him, you understand?'

His eyes were piercing in their stark blackness, searching Ed's eyes for comprehension. 'I couldn't risk that. I couldn't risk you getting caught, or us getting separated, for two reasons: first, if I was caught, Hohenheim would press charges and that would be the end of any help you could have gotten. Second: He would have _hurt_ you.' Roy's grip tightened on Ed's wrists. 'Do you have any idea how angry he is about this? He would gladly kill you, Ed, at this point – _kill you_. Do you honestly think I could _ever_ risk you _dying_ so that I could bring your brother along?'

'I don't care!' Ed snapped, finally regaining his voice. 'You should have brought him, you should have helped me –'

'I _did_ , Ed!' Roy snapped back desperately. 'I've helped you every way I could! I've done everything in my power, I've helped you every step of the way, there is nothing more I can do! Oh, God, Ed, I wish –' Roy looked absolutely frantic. 'I wish I could give you everything you need, okay? But I can't. Do you have any idea how frightening that emotion is at all? Wanting to give up everything for another person? Then imagine that you've been a straight man your entire life, and you meet this teenage _boy_ , and all of a sudden you're blushing left and right and practically breaking your neck just to make sure you do everything you can for him!'

'Roy –'

'Oh, save it, Ed,' Roy snapped angrily. 'It's not even worth it, at this point.' He released Ed's wrists, taking a quick step back. 'Fine, you want to ruin it all? You want to put your brother in more danger than he already is? You want to risk death running back from coughing up too much blood, and then death when you get there? Fine. Go do it, and Goddamn my heart for being with you!'

Roy was gasping in great, shuddering breaths, winded from the force of his anger. 'Go on!' He demanded. 'Leave me here so I can worry if you're dead, and go pick up the bloody pieces when you're done –'

Ed scowled. 'I'm not going anywhere,' he stated, and planted his hands on his hips.

Roy froze. 'You're _what?_ ' he asked, a bit thickly, in Ed's humble opinion.

'I said I'm not going anywhere,' Ed sighed. 'You idiot. You know that if you told me it would put Al in more danger to go, I would have listened to reason, right?'

Roy didn't move, not even to blink.

'And you tell me I need to be more subtle,' Ed rolled his eyes. Then he looked at Roy, and a dark blush settled on his cheeks. Roy looked more than a little lost, more than a little embarrassed; he looked like he would like nothing more than to get in his car, leaving Ed here and never looking his shame in the face again. Which meant one thing: Ed was going to have to suck it up and be the brave one. 'Did you mean it?' Ed asked, his eyebrows knitting together.

'Mean it?' Roy repeated., laughing hoarsely. 'God, Ed, I don't think I've meant anything more.' He ran his hand through his hair, shuffling the black strands out of his eyes. 'I couldn't make up something like this if I tried; it makes no sense, there's no reason.'

The words echoed along Ed's veins, overlapping with half-tendrils of syllables in his heart left over from scattered dreams. 'There _is_ no reason,' he half-said, half-whispered.

'What?' Roy asked, staring.

'There's no reason,' Ed repeated, his voice stronger. His eyes zeroed in on Roy's, which looked shaken. 'No logic. But don't forget.'

'How do you know that phrase?' Roy asked, sounding badly shocked. 'Where did you hear those words?'

'In a dream,' Ed replied, feeling dazed. 'And you? You recognise those words?'

'Only recently,' Roy said quietly. 'A dream. You were – I was –'

'Different,' Ed finished. 'You were in a military uniform, and my arm was made of metal.'

'A miracle,' Roy whispered.

'I don't believe in those,' Ed frowned.

'Then what would you call it?'

'Influence,' Ed replied without hesitation. 'If what you said when you first met me is true, a past life, then we never got to this point. We never said this.'

'And what is this?' Roy asked, pain clearly audible in his voice. 'Is it my telling you that I'm in love with you and you soundly rejecting me on basis of age, difference, and morality?'

'No, you dipshit,' Ed snapped irritatedly. 'It's your telling me you love me and my telling you I love you _back_.' He rolled his eyes. 'Clear enough? Or do I need to bash you over the head with it for you to get it? 'Cause at this point I'd gladly welcome the opportunity to bash you over the head.'

'No bashing of heads, please,' Roy said without it really sinking in. Then his eyes widened. 'You _what_?'

'Wow,' Ed sighed. 'You're unbearably stupid at times.' He walked up to Roy, heart starting to pound in his chest. 'So, apparently, I have to make it very, _very_ clear. Damn; I hate repeating myself.' He glared at the taller man, who now was only an inch away. 'I love you.'

Roy stared down at him, and Ed could see very plainly that it still wasn't getting through. 'You _bastard_ ,' he sighed, and pulled Roy down in a kiss.

He pulled away almost immediately, still glaring. Roy looked dazed. 'Is that clear –'

Suddenly, he was pinned to the car again, but now – oh, _now..._

Roy's lips were warm and hard, desperation in the movement of his mouth against Ed's, but there was desperation in the way he himself was moving, Ed realised. It had taken too long; it had been a painful wait, even if he didn't know how long or how far he'd had to come to reach this point. All he knew was he had been trying for so damn long, lost memories be fucked, to see this come to fruition – where he could kiss his bastard desperately in the night against a car.

Ed's hands gripped the back of Roy's scalp, twisting in the soft strands, and Roy's hands had slid away from Ed's shoulders to hold his waist, to wrap around him and pull him up against his body. His fingers were buried in Ed's jacket, bone-hard spots of warmth that dug into his skin and pressed him close.

Ed's mouth opened, and Roy took the opportunity – his tongue slipped past Ed's, locking their mouths firmly together, and his lips slid with Ed's messily, slippery and irresistible.

They broke apart with a wet, smacking sound, Roy staring down at Ed with a light in his eyes that reminded Ed of a man in a blue uniform, smirking and eyes full of unspoken but kept promises. 'I promised I would keep you safe with my life,' Roy whispered, strengthening the impression. 'If that means this, so be it.'

'You promised my mom,' Ed pointed out. 'Not me. We could still get Al. He's still in danger.'

'Don't you understand, Ed?' Roy replied quietly. 'I never promised your mother anything. I promised _you_.'

'I'm not safe if Al's in danger,' Ed snapped stubbornly, stepping away. 'I'll just go after him when you're not looking.'

Roy's face looked pained. 'Ed –'

'Brother!'

Both Ed and Roy whipped on their heels in perfect unison, gaping at the young man who was running up the street. Al looked like he had run kilometres to find them, and if the lack of a horror-struck look on his face was anything to judge by, he'd missed the prior part of the 'discussion'.

Al skidded to a stop in front of Ed, panting heavily. 'I woke up when Dad was shouting,' he managed to gasp out. 'I left when I heard him shouting up to me – I hid on the roof next to my window. I saw Mr. Mustang's car turn a few streets away, so I tried to follow, but I lost you.'

'How did you find us?' Roy asked sharply, his eyes hard as he skimmed Al's face.

'Mom left her newspaper on top of mine last week, with a couple addresses circled,' Al said. 'I took it, because I didn't know if she was going to leave Dad, or something; when I realised you had left tonight, I put it in my pocket. One had a star next to it –' he pulled a worn piece of newspaper out of his pocket, showing them the address with the blue pen circling it. 'I decided to try each of the addresses; this is my third try.'

'Did Hohenheim see this?' Ed asked, taking the paper from him. Three other houses were circled, with small notes beside them; two of them said 'too close to home' and on said 'too close to work'. As Trisha didn't work, Ed could see what she was talking about.

'No, because he came into the kitchen a few moments after I had put it into my pocket,' Al said quietly. 'He'd just woken up.'

Roy seemed to relax the tiniest bit. 'We should get inside,' he said, sounding relieved. 'I was just trying to convince Ed that we couldn't go back for you.'

Al nodded, his face sad. 'I know,' he said, and his voice was small. 'I'm worried, though... Dad sounded ready to kill someone. I hope Mom's okay.'

Roy froze. 'Shit –' he muttered, then pulled out a cell-phone. Punching a number, he waited impatiently as the two brothers watched him, confused and anxious. 'Maes?' he said suddenly. 'Get to the Elric place immediately – take Havoc and Fuery. Now. We managed to get out, but the mother could be in danger.' there was some rapid talking on the other line, but Roy cut in. 'Maes, she could die. Now.' He hung up.

Something crept into Ed's mind. 'What exactly is your job?' he asked suspiciously.

Roy gave him a small smile. 'I work with a sting operation designed to try and help homosexual youth from being brutalised by their families,' he said matter-of-factly. 'I work with the UK equivalent of Child Protection Services.'

'You _what_?' Ed asked, shocked.

'I also happen to come from a religious background and spent some time in the seminary,' Roy shrugged. 'It's a job. So, to quote you at our first meeting, we _are_ kind of a flaming, underground resistance to organised religion.' his smile grew a little more broad. 'Just more legal.'

Al sighed, and the two others looked at him. 'I've officially gone insane,' he murmured, and looked at Roy. 'Will Mom be okay?'

'I don't know, Alphonse,' Roy smiled bracingly. 'But Maes, Havoc, and Fuery will be able to take care of anything Hohenheim throws at them.'

'Good enough for me,' Al yawned, but anxiety was still written all over his face.

'Let's get you inside,' Roy smiled. 'You look like you could use some sleep.'

Roy ushered them inside, and Ed's mind was in a blur; part of him didn't want to believe it and the other part of him believed it whole-heartedly, just because Roy had said it was so.

Al nearly tripped up the stairs, and when Roy showed him to a room (of which there were two) Al promptly fell on the bed that had come with the house and was asleep.

Ed stared at his brother, adrenaline finally beginning to settle as he realised his brother was okay. He left the room and sat in the hall, elbows on his knees and face in his hands. Everything had happened so quickly – the running away, the pain, the escape, Roy – that his brain was having trouble, for the first time in its relatively short life, keeping up. He knew he couldn't sleep, but he wanted to; he was hungry, but he wasn't; he was frightened, but also ready to face down everything. The whole world was throwing itself at him, and he was simultaneously flinching away and preparing himself to catch it.

'Are you okay?' Roy asked, crouching beside him, his voice quiet.

It was dark in the hallway, and Roy's eyes gleamed like a cat's, sucking in light to reflect it back at Ed. 'Am I okay?' Ed repeated, laughing very lightly, mirthlessly. 'Yeah, I guess so – if you call shell-shocked okay.'

'You should go to bed,' Roy advised.

'I'm not tired,' Ed replied.

Roy sat beside him with a dull thump, shoulder to shoulder, staring at the opposite wall in unison with Ed. '...You want to talk about it?' he asked, his voice kind.

Ed rolled his eyes. 'Not really, but I guess I have to,' he said, and his hands fell away from his face to clench into fists by his sides. 'Otherwise it'll just bottle up and I'll end up on the side of a road again, punching the hell out of a tree and coughing up blood.'

'Can we not talk about that?' Roy asked, his voice pained.

'What if it's something that's bothering me?' Ed snapped, waspish.

Roy looked at him, startled. 'If it's something that's bothering you, then of course we can talk about it,' he said, eyes gleaming their wildness at Ed. 'I only meant that thinking about that time bothers me.' He shook his head. 'I don't ever want to be that frightened again.'

Ed blushed. 'Whatever, it's not bothering me,' he said, looking away. 'It's just...' he tried to put it in words. '...Everything's happening at once, you know? And I have no control at all. I hate being powerless.'

'You're far from powerless, Ed,' Roy smiled. 'You just have a different power than the one you want. And only for the moment. You'll be on your own and in charge of yourself in no time.'

'That's not what I meant,' Ed said quietly, still red; he could feel the heat on his cheeks. 'I meant I have no control over...' he shook his head, then looked Roy in the eyes. 'Would it have been easier,' he asked seriously, 'If I wasn't me and you weren't you?'

'Undoubtedly,' Roy agreed.

'Would you have preferred it that way?' Ed asked, turning to face Roy more fully. 'I mean, would you have preferred if we hadn't... If I...'

'Maybe,' Roy said, and his face was serious as well. 'Ed, God knows my job would have been easier if I hadn't fallen in love with you. But does that mean I would have preferred never loving you at all? That's a stupid question.'

Before Ed could respond, insulted, Roy continued, 'Loving you may have hurt at times – hell, it may hurt at the moment – but I've never really loved anyone like this. Maybe it's because I'm only twenty four. Maybe not.' His hand came up and brushed part of Ed's bangs out of the way. 'Remember? Don't forget.'

'How could I?' Ed asked quietly. 'There's no logic.' Roy's crooked smile made him smile in turn.

'Can I...?' Roy asked, his voice slightly uncertain, and Ed's pulse quickened.

'I...' Ed said, blushing.

'Oh, will you just kiss him already?' Al said loudly, his voice muffled by the door, and both of the men jumped, shocked. 'I saw this coming ages ago – can you two hurry up? Or you're going to be old before it matters.'

Ed felt his face burn, but he began to laugh sheepishly.

'Go find somewhere else to whisper,' Al snapped irritably, and then there was a small snore; Al had apparently fallen asleep again.

Roy stood, tugging Ed up after him, pulling him along the hall.

'Where are we going?' Ed asked, his voice hushed but the confusion still strong.

Roy opened a door and pulled him in, smiling. 'Somewhere to whisper,' he said, and shut the door behind Ed.

It was darker here, wherever 'here' was; Ed couldn't see Roy very well. 'What are –'

Roy pressed him very lightly against the door by the shoulders – not enough pressure to pin him, but enough to get his point across. Ed's breath caught in his throat, and he lost the rest of his question.

'Can I kiss you?' Roy asked, voice quiet, serious. 'I want to, but I'm not sure if you're...'

'I'm fine,' Ed whispered. There was something intimate about the darkness, the way it seemed to press them closer together than light.

Roy's lips brushed lightly across his, lifting away quickly, and brushed across his nose. Ed's heart was pounding against his ribs, and he started when Roy nipped the corner of his mouth. Roy's mouth was a soft thing against his, a sense of reassurance, and when it opened Ed let his tongue in, choosing to focus his attention on the kiss rather than his nervousness.

Roy's fingers tangled themselves in the nape of Ed's hair, the sharp sensation of strands being pulled adding a sense of something a little darker – a little headier, a little more irresistible. Ed sighed into the kiss as Roy's lips became more insistent against his. The headiness built behind Ed's eyes, a force he was unfamiliar with; it made him kiss Roy harder, press closer.

'Ed...' Roy sighed, maintaining his hold but releasing Ed's mouth. Ed smiled up at him, uncertain of if Roy could see it in the darkness.

Roy kissed him lightly, before pulling away. 'You should sleep.'

'I said I'm not tired,' Ed frowned.

'You should sleep anyway,' Roy insisted. 'You'll be exhausted tomorrow if you don't.'

'So?' Ed glared. 'My choice, isn't it?'

'If I have to hold you down until you fall asleep, I'll do it,' Roy warned.

'I'd like to see you try,' Ed replied, and he was startled by the faint, wickedly sharp edge to his voice. 'You couldn't do it.'

'Yes, I could,' Roy replied, and his voice was irritated.

Ed kissed him, mouth pliant and soft against Roy's surprised one. 'What part of 'I'm not tired' seems to be flying over your head?' he asked darkly.

It seemed to sink in, as Roy's breath hitched in his throat. 'Are you serious, Ed?' he asked, and unless Ed was imagining it, his voice was lower by an octave or so.

'As serious as I'll ever be,' Ed smirked into the darkness. 'Hormonal teenage boy. Kind of the first thing on my mind most of the time, much less when I'm kissing someone in the dark.'

'In a bedroom,' Roy added.

'In a bedroom,' Ed agreed. 'So, the question isn't if I'm serious – the question is if _you_ are.'

'God, Ed,' Roy whispered. 'I think you're trying to kill me. I thought you said everything was moving too fast?'

Ed shrugged. 'Or not fast enough,' he said, and kissed Roy again.

* * *

When the sunlight had crept into his room, Ed didn't know. He wasn't even sure he wanted to know; he suspected it would quickly become a point of contention between the morning and the comfortable state he was resting in. He just wanted to lie here forever and sleep, never facing the daylight again.

'Ed?'

He wanted to shut out the voices, too – oh, wait. He knew that one.

'...Roy?' He asked quietly, blinking his eyes open.

'The one and only,' The taller man smiled, and Ed blinked again when he saw how soft Roy's eyes were.

'You're not going to make me get up, are you?' Ed asked, yawning. 'I'm tired.'

'Surprise, surprise,' Roy rolled his eyes. 'You were up late last night.'

'Your fault,' Ed grumbled, and nestled deeper into Roy's side, hiding his face from the sunlight in the comforter on his bed.

'Yes, but you asked for it,' Roy replied, sounding irritated.

'Yes, but you wanted it,' Ed snarked back.

'Yes, but,' Roy smiled. Ed rolled his eyes at him, before sitting up.

'What time is it?' he asked, yawning so wide he felt his jaw crack.

'Nine, or so,' Roy said, still smiling.

'And you woke me up?' Ed glared. 'For what?'

'I just got a call,' Roy said, and Ed stiffened. 'Hughes and Havoc got to your mother in time. She's in the hospital with a broken arm, but Hohenheim has been arrested for domestic violence and child abuse.'

There was a silence in the room while Ed digested this, his eyes trained on Roy's, who gazed unflinchingly back.

'She's okay...?' Ed finally whispered. 'She really is?'

'She really is,' Roy said, smiling again. 'You're safe.' His smiled fell away to a serious expression, and his hand rose, tucking some of Ed's loose hair behind his ear. 'This is the most unusual case I've ever worked on,' he admitted when Ed gave him a look clearly demanding an answer. 'I've never seen someone react so violently to something like this.'

'I figured,' Ed huffed. 'Hohenheim's a bloody nut-case.' He shook his head as he sat up, contemplating the far wall, his eyes searching for invisible words in the bright scrawl of sunlight on the white paint. 'I think I started this whole thing thinking this was because he was Catholic, and that's why there was this shit was happening. But now...' Ed shrugged. 'I think he was just a nutter. Abusive, sociopathic, the whole lot.'

'That's good,' Roy sighed. 'Being objective, I mean.' Ed looked at Roy as he sat up, his bare thigh brushing Ed's own. 'A lot of kids your age think it's the Church's fault.'

'I'm not a kid,' Ed scoffed, then grinned. 'As you may have noticed.'

Roy rolled his eyes. 'Yes, I've noticed,' he said. 'Does that placate your ego?'

'Yes,' Ed smiled, and then hopped off the bed and began rooting around for his clothes. 'Did you tell Al, yet?'

'He's still asleep,' Roy said, smiling. 'It must have been a bad shock to him, the past few days.'

'It's been a bad shock to everyone,' Ed replied, shrugging as he tugged on his pants sans underwear (he couldn't find them, something he resolved to yell at Roy about later). 'He'll be okay with time, I think.'

'Everything's better with time,' Roy replied, buttoning up his shirt. Then he turned to Ed and smiled. 'Would you like to see your mother later today? Hughes put her on the phone for minute, and she said there was something she wanted to say to you.'

Ed swallowed noiselessly, staring at the man, and Roy's smile faltered the tiniest bit. 'If you're not ready –'

'She's not mad?'

The soft question was too vulnerable, and Ed wanted to take it back; but Roy's expression hurt him as much as it was hurting Roy. 'Why would she be mad?'

'Because it's my fault her arm's broken,' Ed explained, sucking in a deep breath, feeling like a child and hating himself for it. 'She's not mad at me for all this?'

'How could she be?' Roy asked, looking at him sadly. 'No matter what you say, it's not your fault.'

Ed opened his mouth to protest, but Roy was in front of him in an instant, Ed's chin gripped tightly as he kissed him quiet. Ed sighed into the warm mouth covering his own before Roy pulled away. 'It's not your fault, Ed, and telling yourself it is won't change that,' Roy said, and his voice was quiet, fierce. It hurt to hear, but at the same time Ed wanted him to never stop talking. 'It's Hohenheim's fault, and no one else's.'

Ed smiled at him. 'Quit treating me like a kid,' he said, but there was no barb in it.

'Quit acting like one,' Roy replied softly, and they both started when there was a knock at the door.

It opened to admit a red-faced Al. 'I'm, um, sorry to barge in,' he stuttered rapidly, staring at them. 'But, um, did you hear from anyone, Mr. Mustang?'

Roy stepped away from Ed, smiling, and Ed tried to choke down a laugh at the look n Al's face. 'I did,' Roy nodded. 'You're mother's in the hospital with a broken arm, but she's otherwise fine; your father is in custody on charges of domestic violence and child abuse.'

Al sagged against the doorway, visibly pleased (but no less red). 'Thank you, Mr. Mustang,' he sighed.

'Please, call me Roy,' Roy said with a smile. 'Mr. Mustang makes me sound like my father.'

'Of course,' Al replied with a timid smile. 'I think I'll be seeing more of you, with you and Brother together, so it's only polite.'

Now Al wasn't the only red one; Ed could feel the heat on his cheeks.

'I'm glad to see you two figured it out,' Al said to Ed, some of the red of his cheeks fading away when he saw that his brother was embarrassed as well. 'It would have been ridiculous to come so far and stop short.'

'Who are you calling so short he'd have to stand on a step-stool to kiss his bastard?' Ed demanded hotly, then froze when he realised Al and Roy were laughing at him. 'Oi! Stop it! I didn't say anything _that_ funny!'

Roy rolled his eyes. 'Come on, then,' he said, and Ed paused at the sight of that smile, completely unrestrained and open. 'Let's get some breakfast before we go to visit your mother.'

* * *

Ed sat in the seat just outside the door as Al went in first; due to trauma, Maes had said, only one should go in at a time. Ed had made Al go first, and now he was sitting, staring at the ceiling.

'She's not angry, you know,' Roy said quietly beside him. Ed moved only to shift closer to the man's warmth, a subtle pressing of the side of his body to Roy's.

'I know,' Ed sighed, and closed his eyes; the soft pink and orange colour of the inside of his eyelids was somehow easier to face that the white pockmarked ceiling of the hall. 'I just...'

'It's okay,' Roy's voice said beside him, and Ed thought that the deep, mellow voice would probably be the most comforting thing he'd ever hear.

'I'm anxious about what she wants to say,' Ed explained, turning his face to Roy but keeping his eyes closed. 'Not because she might yell at me; I'm worried she'll... apologise. I couldn't take it.'

A warm hand brushed through his still-loose hair and tucked it behind his ear, the fingers lingering on the side of his neck in a subtle gesture of affection. Ed could almost see it in the behind his lids; a glimmer of yellow in an orange-monochrome world that he was starting to realise wasn't so monochrome. 'You can take it, Ed,' and Roy's voice, soft in its fondness, was a glimmer of yellow as well. 'You're much stronger than you think. Have faith.'

'In who?' Ed asked, finally opening his eyes. His vision was blue-tinted, but for some reason, Roy looked the same as always – no, he looked more radiant.

'In me,' Roy replied with a small smile, and he wrapped his arms around Ed in an impromptu hug. Ed sank into it gratefully, slipping his arms around Roy's waist and nestling close. The angle was awkward, as the armrests were in the way, and it didn't last long – they were, after all, in a public hospital – but the sensation of being held remained even after Roy drew away.

'Don't worry so much, Ed,' Roy smiled. 'I'll pull you through – I'm not going anywhere.'

'Thanks,' Ed murmured embarrassedly, and he was certain Roy would have kissed him then if a voice had not called from the end of the hall, 'Edward! Roy!'

Both of the men looked to see Maes walking briskly towards them, a bright smile on his face. 'How's the stomach, Ed – can I call you Ed?' Maes asked, his smile all the brighter for his proximity.

'Sure,' Ed smiled. 'Much better. I can walk and eat without pain.'

'With minimal pain,' Roy corrected, ignoring Ed's scowl.

'Excellent, excellent,' Maes said, and ruffled Ed's hair in a good-natured manner that made it difficult for Ed to glare at him while he tried to make his hair fall flat again. 'I was worried about you – we all were, as a matter of fact.'

'Maes,' Roy said warningly, but Maes bulldozed on, oblivious (much to Ed's amusement).

'Roy's been on edge for weeks over this particular case,' Maes informed Ed cheerfully. 'I expect you'll meet the others over time – Riza nearly had a heart attack when she heard you were in the hospital, and my darling Gracia will be so relieved to find you're okay –'

Ed looked at Roy as Maes babbled. _Gracia?_ He mouthed.

 _Maes' wife,_ Roy mouthed back.

'– and, of course, we're all excited to meet the man who finally convinced our Roy to settle down –'

Ed choked on his own spit, about the same time that Roy began a coughing fit of his own. 'What?' They said in unison, staring at Maes.

'Well? It's true,' Maes shrugged. 'I've been trying to convince Roy to settle down with a good girl since his last birthday – of course, you're not a girl,' Maes tacked on hastily at the strangled noise that came from Ed's throat, 'Which I wasn't expecting, but it's still sweet. I'm glad to see Roy happy, after all – we all will be –'

'What the hell makes you think we're together?' Ed demanded at the same instant Roy sputtered, 'He's not – I'm not – Maes, you idiot, you're going to run him off!'

They both looked at each other, startled at the other's pronouncement, as Maes began to laugh.

'Run me off?' Ed repeated. 'What do I look like, a dog?'

'What do you mean, we're not together?' Roy replied, confused. 'I would assume...'

'Well, that' not what I meant!' Ed protested as Maes howled. 'We're together, but I didn't know if you'd want him to know! And what did you mean, run me off?'

Maes laughed still louder. Ed and Roy turned to him as one and snapped, 'Shut up!'

Maes' laughter silenced itself mid-howl.

'I meant that,' Roy sighed, looking at Ed again. 'Maes will drive you off just by virtue of his personality.'

Ed frowned. 'I like him,' he replied to Roy's look of surprise and Maes' proud glow. 'Sure, he's a little spastic –'

'Hey!'

'– But why on earth would that drive me off?' Ed's eyebrow rose. 'You've met Winry, right?'

Roy was still looking at him, surprised. Ed rolled his eyes. 'You're an idiot,' he sighed, and kissed him without thinking.

Maes whooped, then fell silent at a passing nurse's glare. Ed pulled away, red faced, and Maes gave him a wink that only made the blush worse.

'First time I've seen him speechless,' He confided to Ed in a stage whisper, and yelped when Roy smacked him.

The door opened beside Ed, and he looked away from the good-natured squabble to see Al smiling uncertainly at him. 'She wants to see you,' he said and Ed nodded, standing up. He saw Al's curious glance at the two bickering men and sighed.

'Ignore them,' he advised. 'They're as bad as me and Winry, I swear.'

Al smiled and stepped aside to let Ed into the room. Ed cast a glance back to Roy, and found himself the recipient of a reassuring smile.

He gave a nervous smile back, and stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.

'Ed?' Trisha asked immediately.

The room was brighter than Ed had thought, sunlight streaming in through open curtains and setting the room ablaze in white. Trisha's arm was stretched out awkwardly beside her, wrapped in a dull white plaster that seemed out of place in the light of the sun. She smiled. 'Come over.'

'How are you?' he asked uncertainly, perching on the left edge of the bed when she patted it.

'I'm just fine,' she said, then her smile faded. 'I have to tell you something.'

'What...?' he said, and resisted jerking away when her hand came to rest on his face. From the look in her eyes, though, she had seen his involuntary shudder.

'I'm not going to lie and say I approve of your lifestyle choice,' she said, sounding pained. 'How can I, when it goes against everything I've ever been taught in church and by life experience?' She shook her head. 'But I was also taught that the love for our children – no matter their excursions into sin – must be upheld.'

... _Well_ , Ed thought dully, _at least she's not apologising._

'But I will apologise for Hohenheim's behaviour, and for my own fear in standing up to him,' she continued, and he winced. 'What he did was wrong, by all accounts except his own. And as his account counts for little now...' she smiled, but there was the echo of the pained look from before as she steeled her jaw. 'I won't support your lifestyle.'

'I know,' Ed nodded. 'I never wanted you to.'

'As long as we're clear,' she smiled. 'Even though I don't support your choices, I love you. You know that, right?'

Her eyes were pleading, and Ed nodded heavily. 'I love you too, Mom,' he said, and stood, shaking off her hand. There was no anger, just a sadness that it would take a while to get over. 'Even though I don't support your choices.'

'What?' she said, blinking. He stepped away, and walked to the door; he paused, hand on the knob.

'And just so you know,' he said, and shot her a half-hearted grin. 'I never chose to be this way. It just... happened to be me.'

Then he opened the door and stepped out into the hall.

* * *

'Let go of me!' Ed laughed, trying to escape the death-grips that Al liked to call hugs. There was a tearing sound, and the corner of Ed's black gown ripped; he hit him over the head with his Bachelor of Science in retaliation.

'Calm down, you two,' Roy said, separating them, but smiling.

'We're very proud of you, sir,' Hawkeye said, smiling despite her obvious irritation with her hair; it was lying down her back in a curtain, as opposed to its customary bun, and she flicked it out of the way again. 'You've come very far.'

Ed smiled back and shook her proffered hand; he had gotten to know Roy's 'team' very well over the four years since that first summer. Now he was in possession of his BS in biochemistry and tomorrow, he and Roy were boarding a plane to the U.S., where Ed was pursuing a doctorate in biochemistry (and specifically organic nano-bots) in New England.

He cast a glance over at Roy, who caught it and gave him a smile in return. 'Are we ready to go?' he asked of the assembled group – all of whom were meeting at Ed's apartment to celebrate late into the night.

'Ready!' was the rousing chorus, and they each parted to their respective cars. Roy and Ed made for Roy's car, and Ed slid into the passenger seat as Roy started the engine. 'So...' he said craftily, and Roy shot him a look. He grinned. 'I'm assuming my gift for graduating will be better than my gift for not fainting in the middle of final exams?'

'I didn't give you a gift for –' Roy rolled his eyes when it dawned on him. Ed snorted; sometimes he had to speak in ALL CAPS to get Roy's attention – which was remarkable, considering how manipulative and subtle his four-year lover was. 'Yes, Ed, I will somehow manage to top my last "gift",' Roy sighed, as if he would actually mind the invitation for a night-long round of sex.

Ed's cell phone rang, and he flipped it open, blinking at the number. 'Yeah, Al?'

'Do you mind stopping at the market on the way home?' Al asked quickly, before Ed could raise objections. 'Forgot the champagne – thank you, Brother!'

Al hung up before Ed could splutter out 'No!'

Roy was laughing beside him, and was already flicking the turn signal to turn into the market; he expertly avoided Ed's swat, and parked. 'Come on,' he chided as Ed stomped out of the car, irritated. 'You don't want them drinking everything in the house, do you?'

Still grumbling, Ed followed Roy into the store; he made a beeline for the alcohol section, his id in his fingers already. He was getting really sick of people trying to card him, and it was just going to get worse in the U.S.

Roy caught up and snagged Ed's sleeve, smiling when Ed turned and huffed at him. 'Will you calm down?' he said. 'It's only champagne.' He kissed Ed then, a soft brush of lips that instantly calmed Ed a bit.

Of course, all of that calmness disappeared when, behind him, he heard a faint feminine whisper: 'Ed?'

He turned to see Trisha staring at them as if she had seen a ghost. Ed flushed dull red, and was thankful when Roy came up behind him, bracing him with warmth. Part of him was defensive, but another part was confident; if there was one thing he knew for certain about his relationship with Roy, it was that it wasn't a mistake, or influenced by something other than himself. He had wanted this, and his mother could give him as many disgusted looks as she wanted, it wouldn't change that.

Only... she _wasn't_ giving him a disgusted look. She just looked surprised, to be honest. 'Mr. Mustang,' she said, inclining her head in a nod of greeting.

'Trisha,' Roy replied, and Ed could feel the force of his smile by the tightness of his hand on Ed's shoulder. 'How are you?'

'I'm doing well,' she replied, and a small smile filled out her cheeks. 'And you two?'

Ed tensed immediately, but Roy's hand relaxed on his shoulder. 'We're doing well,' Roy said. 'Ed just graduated.'

'Al told me,' she said cheerfully. 'When you two get to the States, send me your address. I would like to visit.'

Ed stiffened with shock. 'You would?' he asked. She smiled, and there was an understanding lilt to her lips.

'Of course I would,' she said, and even though her smile trembled a bit, she held it. 'I'm very proud of you.'

A watch on her wrist beeped, and she looked down, startled. 'Oh, I'm sorry,' she said sheepishly. 'I'm supposed to be at the church in twenty minutes; it's my turn to speak at the PFLAG meeting.'

Ed took a step back in shock, and Trisha smiled again. 'You'd be surprised what difference four years of freedom can make, dear,' she said, and walked forward. Ed thought she was going to pass, but she pressed a kiss to his cheek first, and ruffled his hair. 'I hope you two have a good time,' she said, and then she was gone.

Ed turned to Roy, wide-eyed. 'Did that...' He started, and then had to start over again. 'Did that really just happen?'

'I believe so,' Roy said, and snagged two bottles of champagne from the shelf. 'The best thing to do, I think,' Roy said, smiling at Ed's continued gape, 'would be to grin and bear it.'

Ed took the bottles held out to him, and eventually smiled. Roy turned again, and his look softened.

'Are you alright?' he asked, and Ed looked at him – the bastard he had travelled so far to find.

'Never better,' Ed admitted, and walked toward the counter.


End file.
